Oh, It's You
by Bookreader525
Summary: "Cut the ending. Revise the script. The man of her dreams is a girl." - Julie Anne Peters / A series of unrelated Jemily one-shots centered around one line of dialogue. COMPLETE!
1. car wash

**I'm kicking myself right now because I know the last thing I need is another project. I have so much summer work for school and a million other unfinished projects going. And yes, I know I said I was done writing for this fandom, but I could not resist adding some Jemily to the mix. I'm not sure how far this will go, but for now I'll place it at a minimum of five chapters. I also solemnly swear that in future installments, there will be kisses and cuddling and angst and more lovely femslash. I love these two girls so much, god help me. Until next time, please enjoy.**

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"… and that is why unfunded government liabilities are harmful not just to our nation's debt crisis, but also to our natural rights as citizens of the United States. Thank you."

Emily stepped down from the podium, her fingers sliding along the smooth mahogany wood as she retreated to her desk. The class was deadly silent. _Strangely_ silent. She risked a glance upward.

Over half of the students were slouched in their chairs, heads bobbing forward in slumber. The other half was wide awake, but hunched over their phones. The insistent tapping of fingers on tiny keyboards was annoying like nails scraping against a chalkboard. Emily swallowed a furious outburst and collapsed into her seat.

"That was an excellent point, Emily," the teacher— a guy in his late fifties with a few wisps of gray hair at his temples— said as he circled back to the podium. "Would anyone else like to present a counterargument to that?"

Nothing. Emily almost expected to hear the sound of crickets. She could definitely hear the chirping in her head, and it was humiliating. Right then, her savior the bell rang and she was able to escape that hell. She sprang up from her chair as if she'd sat on a thumbtack and was the first one out of the room.

The hallway bustled with teenagers and beeping phones and general murmur. Emily pushed her way through the clamor until she reached her locker. She plugged in the combination and cursed softly as the cheap metal door swung open, allowing a haphazardly-placed stack of textbooks to fall on her foot.

"Son of a bitch," she groaned, leaning down to reorganize the mess. When did she let her locker become a disaster zone? It looked like a tornado had ripped straight through it.

It took a solid five minutes to get the plethora of textbooks organized into a take-home pile and a stay-at-school pile. Emily heaved the former set of books into her book bag, checked her makeup in the mini magnetic mirror on the inside of the locker door, then slammed the stupid thing shut and made her way down the emptier hallway.

It was a miracle she had AP Government & Economics last period. It was always the most tiring class of the day, so getting to leave school the moment that class had sucked the last ounce of energy out of her was great. She enjoyed the class well enough, even if, at this late in the school year, none of her classmates cared about the end-of-the-year debates. They'd all taken the final a month ago, and the grade for debates was just extra credit. Emily was, apparently, the only one interested in taking advantage of that little boost for her GPA. Everyone else was just counting down the days until graduation. At this point, they only had to count on one hand.

There were a few stragglers in the schoolyard as she jogged down the front steps, but the majority of the student body had taken off in buses and cars by now. Emily continued her trek towards her waiting Volvo in the parking lot, but slowed to a stop when two boys ran right in front of her. One of them stepped on her toe.

"Yeah, sure, of course you're excused!" she yelled after them, following their receding forms with eyes like daggers. "Assholes," Emily mumbled as an afterthought. She continued onward to the parking lot, only to be cut off by another gaggle of students.

She halted again, confusion making her forehead scrunch up like tissue paper. She glanced behind her and spotted more people heading in her direction, then going right past her. It was like a bunch of iron shavings attracted to a giant horseshoe magnet. Everyone was clearly headed for the same destination.

"What the hell…?" Emily sighed, spinning back around and tagging along with another small group. She tried to tune in to their excited chatter, but nothing they said gave her any clues as to what all the commotion was about.

They turned around the edge of the school building, and at last it was apparent what was exciting so many people.

At the edge of the lawn, in full view of the busy street the front of their school faced, was the cheerleading squad. Most of the girls were decked out in very tight and very revealing white halter tops and blue shorts— their school's colors. A few had their pom-poms and were swishing them around eagerly. Others were handing out fliers to the masses they'd attracted. Two girls were holding up a large poster board sign decorated with big bubble letters and a smattering of glitter. It was emblazoned with the words:

 _CAR WASH TOMORROW! 12-3_

 _ONLY $5.00 PER CAR_

 _PARKING LOT OF VAL'S DRUGSTORE_

 _COME SUPPORT WEST LAKE HIGH'S CHEERLEADERS!_

Emily snorted in disgust and started to turn away. "I'd rather support literally _any_ other cause," she muttered to herself as she marched back across the lawn. "What could those primadonnas want to raise money for anyway? Brand new uniforms that are three sizes too small instead of two?"

She slid into the plush leather driver's seat of her Volvo and turned the key in the ignition. The young engine rumbled to life, and within a minute she had pulled out of the parking lot on her way home.

The car had been a gift for her sixteenth birthday from her very stoic stepfather. It was the nicest thing he had ever done for her. Otherwise, he had made absolutely zero effort in trying to incorporate himself into the lives of Emily and her sisters. Sometimes, it still felt like he was a near-stranger sitting with them at the dinner table. Ever since Emily's two older sisters had been shipped off to faraway Ivy leagues, it was even more lonely at home. She almost wanted to turn the Volvo in any other direction _besides_ home. But she went there anyway.

The next morning was a Saturday. The sun seemed particularly annoying and bright as it sliced through a gap in Emily's otherwise firmly shut curtains. She rolled over in her bed and spied the time on her alarm clock, which had been silenced for the weekend.

It was almost noon. She groaned softly, sitting up and stretching. She grabbed her outfit of the day— a rather unimpressive t-shirt with an old pair of jean shorts— and trudged like a zombie down the hall.

A small number of minutes later, Emily was in the kitchen idly eating cereal. She was just about to shovel another spoonful of tasteless bran flakes in her mouth when her younger sister Rebecca came rushing in. She was a sophomore to Emily's senior, and she also happened to be the least "intellectually gathered"— their mother's words— of the four Davis sisters. Becca hadn't needed a ride home from school yesterday because she had caught a ride from one of her friends' parents. Oh, and the topper for this sugary sweet cake? She was a member of the cheer squad.

"I need you to drive me to the fundraiser," Becca said, completely forgoing any greetings as she flounced up to the table. She leaned forward in order to catch Emily's stink eye.

"Fundraiser for what?" she grumbled after swallowing a mouthful of bran mush.

"For cheer," Becca told her shortly. She tugged at the collar of her shirt to reveal a bikini strap. "We're doing a car wash. Not that you would know, anyways."

"Or care," Emily added. "Steve's home. Ask him to take you."

The other girl shook her head. "Stepdaddy said you would drive me. So come on."

Emily suppressed a shudder at her sister's name for their stepfather. Without a word, she dumped her dishes in the sink, grabbed her keys out of the dish by the front door, then headed out to her car without holding the front door for Becca, who struggled to catch up.

"Looks like your car could use a good washing," Becca noted. Her nose was scrunched up in disdain as she gingerly took hold of the handle of the front passenger door. "Did you drive it through, like, a mud storm?"

"Could you, like, not talk until I drop you off?" Emily asked, checking her mirrors before backing out of the long driveway. "No need for you to waste your breath, because I won't be listening to any of your high-pitched babble."

Becca slid down in her seat and glared out the window. It was a short drive, luckily. Emily remembered where the stupid event was taking place, but even if she had forgotten where it was, the girls stationed every few feet along the curb with flashy signs would've given her plenty of directions. Becca waved out the window excitedly at each one.

Emily had barely pulled into the parking lot of Val's Drugstore when Becca had unbuckled her seatbelt and hopped out of the car. Emily couldn't help but let her jaw drop as she took in the collection of streamers, posters, people and cars clustered in the parking lot. It looked like the goddamn president was visiting or something.

Her sister had already stripped down to her skimpy swimsuit and taken ahold of a sponge. Emily manually shut her jaw, watching as the numerous high school girls dipped soapy sponges in buckets, slapped dripping rags onto windshields, and sprayed hoses over grubby bumpers. She was sitting there idling in the parking lot for so long, she didn't even realize that a smaller group of cheerleaders had broken away from their pack to walk over to the Volvo.

One of the girls tapped on Emily's window, and she rolled it down with a gulp.

"If you want service, miss, you're gonna have to move to the back of the line over there," she informed her while pointing to the other end of the lot. The line stretched around almost the entire perimeter of the lot.

It took a second for Emily to recompose herself. "Ahem, no, I'm not here for your porno car wash. I was just dropping my sister off." She got a closer look at the girl, then laughed scornfully. "By the way, 'miss,' we've had classes together since second grade. I would've thought you had space in your brain to remember my name, but I guess not."

An offended look quickly formed on the girl's face, and she rested one hand over her wet chest as she stepped back from the car. Emily set the car back into drive and was beginning to press down on the gas pedal when another girl came up to her window.

"Emily Davis, right?"

Emily moved to roll up the window, but the girl had placed her hands over it, preventing any movement. She was walking along with the car as it rolled slowly forward, until the driver set it back into park. Reluctantly, Emily glanced up and immediately regretted it.

A lacy black bikini clung to the girl's tanned skin, slick with sweat and water. Emily's eyes trailed upward to find an inquisitive face framed with strands of blonde hair darkened by moisture. The rest of her locks were tamed into a braid that trailed past her left shoulder. The girl's eyes were such a striking shade of blue-green, and Emily couldn't tear herself away from them.

There was no way she could leave now.

"Um…" Em coughed, awkwardly leaning her elbow against the armrest in the door. "Yes. That's me."

"Well, then." The girl chuckled as she drummed her manicured nails against the car's open window space. They were painted a dark magenta, which Emily could only hope didn't match the color of her cheeks at the moment. "How about we just give you a quick wash. I can give you a discount."

The first girl stepped forward, her eyes narrowed into angry slits. "Uh, what the hell are you doing? Lacey said no discounts—"

"Lacey," the blonde interrupted, twisting the upper half of her body to face her companion, "can go suck a fat one. I want to give Emily here a discount, and you _know_ I do what I want. Isn't that right, Katie?"

The other girl gritted her teeth and pulled her fingers into tight fists, but didn't argue any more. She whirled around and stormed back to the rest of the squad, wordlessly fuming.

The other two girls who had walked over still stood behind the blonde, and showed no signs of leaving. "So," the new ringleader drawled as she rested her elbows against the door and placed her face between her forearms. "How about three dollars?"

"I mean… well, I guess… sure. What— what the hell," Emily replied. At last the girl moved out of the window, and Emily was able to roll it up. The trio wasted no time getting to work.

The other two were attractive, sure, but Emily was fixated on the blonde. Her every movement was silky; not one misstep or stumble. Her bare feet tiptoed over the hot asphalt, slender legs twirling around the car. Sponges squelched and bubbles slid down the Volvo's navy hood. The suds-infused water glinted off the car's paint, dazzling Emily's vision with sunlight. The girl's plaited beige blonde hair was still brighter somehow.

Emily couldn't understand it. The girl looked old enough to be in her grade, but Em was familiar with almost everyone in her class. She must have been a junior, then. But how did she know Emily's name? Emily loved the mystery of this girl. She loved trying to figure her out while watching her through the tinted glass distorted by the gushing hose aimed at the car.

When the Volvo was cleaned, rinsed, and scrubbed dry, Emily rolled down the window again. The girl poked her head through the window, arms dangling in lazily and perky breasts at eye level for Emily. She snapped her head away and began digging through her purse with shaky fingers, hoping to scrounge up the money. Three dollars. Three _measly_ dollars. She lived in a four-hundred-thousand-dollar house, and she couldn't find three bucks?

In the end, all she could manage to find was a crumpled ten-dollar bill. She offered it to the blonde, who took it hesitantly.

"Th- there, just…" Emily swallowed, stuffing the money more into the girl's palm. "… keep the change, okay?"

Then she peeled out of the parking lot, every nerve in her body tingling as thoughts of the girl swarmed her mind. The girl with the sun-kissed shoulders and the healthy blush in her cheeks. The girl reaching up to glide the soaked sponge over the car's hood. The girl with the eyes accentuated with waterproof mascara, with the eyes that glimmered like pebbles in a sunlit creek. The girl with the confused smile on her face as she clutched Emily's ten-dollar bill in her slim fingers. The girl with the blondest hair Emily had ever seen.

She pulled back into the house's driveway, stepping out of the car with legs like jelly. It was as if her kneecaps had disappeared completely. She was ready to cave in on herself. There was a hazy filter over her vision as she circled around the Volvo to the front door. She didn't even ask for the girl's _name_. In four days, she was graduating high school, and she would never see this girl again.

Or maybe not. Emily froze like a statue, her nerves suddenly fizzing out like a cheap sparkler. She gazed at the rear window of her car and felt a smile stretch her elastic cheeks.

Written in white chalk marker with hasty letters and a few smudges were two things.

Jess.

Underneath that was a phone number.


	2. surviving, barely

**Soooo this is my attempt at getting out of a bad rut. The description and detail goes overboard a bunch of times, but that's the kind of stuff that urges me out of my writer's block, so it'll have to do. I'd love to hear your thoughts as I continue to muddle onward through this angsty and flirty hell (I mean heaven). Please enjoy.**

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Emily was numb.

Out of everything she had been put through in the last ten hours, the final sensation her body offered her was pure numbness. She couldn't feel her fingers gripping the edge of the hard plastic chair. The tips of her ears and nose had been so severely gnawed at by the frost, she was sure she might never have any feeling in them again. Only her eyes seemed to register anything, and they saw a lot in that dim waiting room at the Blackwood police station.

She saw Ashley, sobbing softly into the blood-spattered sleeves of her hoodie, hat askew and eyes redder than her hair.

She saw Sam, stony-faced and silent, her face an unbreakable dam holding back a torrent of emotions.

They were the only other two who escaped the lodge. Chris's fate was sealed by a crippling limp, an unwieldy shotgun and a lightning-fast monster; Mike burned up in the lodge, his flesh like molten lava; Josh had been sentenced to an unspeakable eternity in the mines. And Matt…

Emily had watched him die. Unbeknownst to her, her fingers latched tighter onto the edge of the chair as the memory swarmed her. It was a dim, flickering memory, but it was still there, forever an existence, a disturbance, in her brain.

An ax swung, a sharp cry from the elk, a boot slipping off a cliff edge, a hand reaching out to grab another, a scream ripping through cold, empty air, a thud, and red.

A body being dragged back into the darkness.

A fierce shudder traveled up her spine just then, and she leaned back against the chair slowly. A tiny TV was mounted in an upper corner of the dull room with a thin layer of dust covering its screen. A news channel was on, and through the haze of dust the weatherman seemed to be predicting more blizzards.

Lovely. Snow. That was just what they needed to take the edge off. More cold. More sweet, numbing relief. She wanted to slip out of her gross, damp clothes and dive into a snowdrift and never come back out.

When the first feeling in a long while hit her, it wasn't the one she had been expecting. It was a simple, dull throb in her lower abdomen. She had to pee. A simple and forgettable action that now terrified her. She didn't want to be alone in a freezing bathroom. Ashley and Sam were both rooted to the spot, so they sure as hell weren't moving. But what was fear if it couldn't be faced?

So she stood up and shuffled slowly across the scuffed-up linoleum, speaking quietly to an officer who pointed her in the direction of the restroom. She crossed her arms tightly and tiptoed down a too long, too dark hallway with peeling wallpaper and more dying, dusty lights.

By the time she was finished in the restroom— not even glancing at the mirror, because whatever she saw would only serve to make things worse— she noticed something at the opposite end of the hallway.

Approaching a door, she peered through the small glass window in it, and immediately a gasp drew through her lungs. The breath was sharp enough to hurt, like little prickly needles. She staggered back, taking a moment to recover before glancing back through the glass and fogging it up with her quick pants of disbelief.

In a separate waiting room, far more quiet and far lonelier, was the girl Emily had never expected to see again.

Jessica was hunched over, her eyes sunken into her skull. Deep scarlet gashes marred her face and chest. Fresh blood still leaked from the wounds on her chest, soaking the sagging collar of her stained shirt a chilling crimson. There was a thick woolen blanket draped over her shoulders, but she didn't appear to notice it was there.

The girl who Emily despised, the girl who never once set foot out of her house before ensuring she looked flawless, was sitting there with smudged mascara and a once vibrant blossom of a personality curled back tightly into a bud.

A strong urge hit Emily in that moment. She took a deep breath and shoved the door open.

Jessica's eyes flitted upward. The person she had been expecting to appear in the doorway was most certainly not the same person who was actually standing in the doorway. Apprehension glittered in her gaze, and she jerked her face back down. Suddenly, the blanket was noticed as she grabbed it and tugged in closer toward her chest. She gritted her teeth at the movement but didn't make any noise or greeting.

Emily took a second to make a hasty sweep around the room with her eyes. They were alone, but it was highly likely a cop was less than a room away, so she stayed on edge. She couldn't be sure why the hell Jess was quarantined from the others, but it gave her a stupid sense of hope. Maybe Josh was here too— he was the only one of the guys who could still possibly be alive. It was doubtful, but still her hope lingered, loitering in her brain like the annoyingly wretched thing it was.

She was yanked out of her thoughts by a piercing whimper. The blanket had slipped out of Jessica's shaky grip and landed on the floor. She was left trembling violently in a thin, torn t-shirt and ripped-up jeans. The ugly pair of boots— definitely not the same ones she had arrived at the lodge in— on her feet didn't seem to be doing much help warming her up, either.

Emily didn't know what exactly compelled her to step forward and let the door close softly behind her. Any logical greeting did not seem gentle enough for the shell of a person who occupied this room with her, so Emily settled with the best icebreaker her tormented brain could come up with.

"It… looks like you're in trouble there. Can I help?"

She hadn't felt any need to console the crying Ashley or comfort the rock-solid Sam. So why soothe the worst person out of all of them? And yet still something drew her to Jess, some type of magnetic attraction that urged her to bend down and pick up the blanket and reposition it so it was once again over the other girl's bony shoulders.

Then Emily made her third mistake— or was it her fourth? She wasn't keeping count— and settled into the chair next to Jess. Still her ex-best friend wouldn't spare her a glance and instead found the grimy linoleum tiles under their feet much more interesting.

For a long several minutes, the two of them were perched awkwardly on two neighboring chairs, their mouths parched of words. The only sound was Jessica's raspy breaths rattling through her lungs, ever so slowly. Emily counted the seconds between her inhales and exhales, and eventually matched her breathing to the other girl's.

In… and out.

In… and out.

In… and—

"Why are you here?"

The question tore its way past Emily's grinding teeth and clamped-shut lips. She had zero control over it, despite it having been brewing in her mind ever since she first spotted Jess through the small window in the door.

"Like… separate?" She cleared her throat. "From the others?"

Nothing. The sole noise Jess seemed capable of making was the steady rumble of converting dusty oxygen into carbon dioxide. Emily swallowed, her eyes raking over the blank wall in front of them. This room didn't even have a TV, and suddenly she'd give anything to have back the grating voice of the weatherman forecasting more snow flurries.

She decided to try explaining. Simplicity wasn't her strong suit, but she did her best to break down the night's results into basic chunks.

"So… Ash and Sam are alive. They're in the other room."

Silence— well, besides her breathing. Emily had thought excluding any questions would suffice. Maybe Jess was one of those people who were so traumatized, their voice was chased right out of them forever. It was tough to imagine Jessica Riley being permanently mute.

The beginnings of frustration were biting at Emily's nerves. She tried to gulp it down, to suppress it, but the feelings just wouldn't go away. She looked down at Jess, who still stared at the floor. Wordlessly she threw an arm over her shoulders.

The other girl startled, her neck snapping upward. Her tattered braids swung lightly at her abrupt movement.

Emily wanted to tell her she wouldn't hurt her. Not physically, nor verbally as she had mere hours ago. Jess had scarred her with her insults as well, but now she hardly seemed like the same girl she had snowballed threats back and forth with earlier. All over someone who was now a charred corpse.

The reason Emily didn't tell her this— as much as she wanted to— was because she didn't feel the need to. Jess wouldn't move away from her one-armed embrace. If anything, she seemed to welcome it. With every second they touched, another trusting stitch was woven into their ragged quilt of friendship.

She could feel the other girl's nonstop quivering under her arm, and so she pulled her closer. Jess still made no move to resist. She was icy cold when Emily's fingers brushed her cheek. And no protest was made when Emily ever-so-gently used her hand to tilt Jessica's face up towards hers.

She saw the same grayish-green gaze, only minus the spark. Two perfect snippets of red now resided between her eyes. Jess still had the same cute button nose that sloped downward perfectly. Her lips were chapped and speckled with dried blood, and poised into a heart-twisting frown. As soon as Emily had taken in every detail of her face, Jess jerked away from her and returned to fixating on her obsession with the floor.

With that, Emily's anger came to a white-hot head, and it spilled past her very poorly constructed dam.

"I am sorry, you know. Don't you think I feel like shit? I sure as hell hope you do too. I mean… to think that, if we both died up there, our last words to each other would've… would've been 'bitch' or 'slut' or 'cow' or whatever the hell we said! We fucking _lived_ , Jess, and I… I just…" She faltered as the words came trickling to a halt. She found a few final words to grab onto. "Now I just think… living might be worse than dying."

Still Jess didn't talk. A few more minutes of quiet gave Emily time to conjure up some additional rickety sentences.

"I've been thinking, y'know… if— if I had died in the mines, I never would have… have gotten to tell you the truth." Pause. "Matt was a cover. I don't know if you knew that already, but… he was. I led him on. And now he's— he's gone. Fuck. And I don't… he'll always think that… I thought about him in that way when I- I didn't, and I never did in the first place."

Under her arm, which had gotten quite sore but still remained firmly in place, Jessica's trembling lessened. Emily let herself roam deeper into the grave she was digging herself.

"I was… confused for a long time. I wasn't being honest with myself. And— and I almost died without telling you."

After that, her words dried up. Her tongue felt like sandpaper scraping the roof of her mouth. Suddenly she wanted nothing more than water, or something to quench her thirst. And right then, she had a vague idea of what could quench it.

She tilted her head down and pressed a tender kiss on Jessica's forehead. The shaking that had been plaguing the other girl's muscles for so long now completely stopped.

When Emily moved back, Jess was finally staring right back at her. Her eyes looked different this time, glinting more green than gray. They always got like that when she was excited. Emily used to see those eyes whenever there was a big sale at the mall or a new cute person working at the burger restaurant Jess used to waitress at.

It was Jess who initiated the kiss. It was Jess who kept the kiss going. It was Jess who guided Emily's arm away from her shoulders, and instead brought her hands to her hips. It was Jess who reached out one lukewarm hand to weave her fingers into Emily's. It was Emily, however, who broke the kiss. It was beautiful, and yet this didn't seem like the ideal place for their first kiss. It wasn't fair.

Emily searched Jessica's face, trying to decode her expression and find the hidden words that wouldn't exit the other girl's mouth.

"Aren't you going to say something?" Emily begged. "Anything at all?"

Jess dipped her head, eyebrows scrunching like they always did when she thought hard. Then, finally, she lifted her gaze back up to Emily and the faintest of smiles formed on her delicious lips.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Somehow, to Emily, that was nothing and everything all wrapped up in two pretty words. She nibbled on her lip, and pulled Jess into a hug that was to define their relationship for the next decades to come.

In that tiny box of a room under the flickering lights at the Blackwood police station, Emily and Jessica were survivors. One half of the daughters of darkness. Emily was freed from her secrets. And if their first kiss was meant to be in the waiting room of a grungy police station, then so fucking be it.


	3. stealing girls

**I stayed up way too late writing this. Oh well. Basically, Em steals Mike's girl because she's just awesome like that. Thanks for reading and please enjoy!**

 **P.S. I was in an anti-Mike mood this chapter, just some forewarning. He's not the best roommate.**

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The night sky was a smoggy, diluted navy color over Emily's head. She spared it a brief glance as she leaned into the backseat of her car to retrieve her suitcase.

This business trip had been particularly more hellish than usual. The idiot she'd been sent to Seattle with had completely butchered their presentation, and as a result the company sent them back home earlier than planned.

"I mean, who the hell answers their phone in the middle of an important business meeting?" Emily spat angrily into the phone she had nestled between her neck and shoulder. "Thanks to that imbecile, now we're probably going to lose a good…"— she paused, listening to the person on the other line, then nodded vigorously to the empty air— "… yes, exactly! Or even more than that. Our stocks are fucked, that's for sure. We— no, _he_ — lost a really good deal."

Finally, she was able to get a good hold on her suitcase, and with a grunt she heaved it out of the backseat of her silver Acura. She then circled around to the trunk of the car to remove her remaining bags. Mike had given her a difficult time while loading her luggage into the car just three days prior; Emily's retort had been a perfectly-delivered "A woman can never have too many outfit options, Michael."

Once everything was out, she locked up the car and began making her way to the front door of her and Mike's shared single family home.

"Alright, Kelly, I'll have to talk to you later. I'm almost at the door," Emily spoke into the phone again. "Yeah, I know. Yes… yep. See ya, hon. And let's hope our jobs still exist come Monday!" With that, Emily ended the call and slipped her phone into a back pocket.

She tried the door handle on the chance it was open, but of course Mike had left it locked. Emily glanced back over her shoulder, noting again that his car was indeed parked out front. Maybe the bastard had fallen asleep in front of the TV again. Emily couldn't wrap her mind around why he even watched football and baseball if those programs only ever made him into a snore machine.

She fished her key out of her purse and was inside seconds later. Immediately she noticed all the lights were off, except for the back hallway leading to their bedrooms. Keeping quiet, she crept around blindly through the kitchen, stopping off in her room for a moment to take off her jewelry. She would've left Mike alone, but the strip of light under his closed door prodded too much at her curiosity.

Most Friday nights, she would arrive home to find her buffoon of a roommate slumped on the couch, phone still in one hand and TV remote in the other. Because he also happened to be the neighborhood heartthrob, he brought home girls on many an occasion. He had been living here a couple years before Emily moved in, and now that she'd been under their shared roof for nearly eleven months, she had spent more than her fair share of nights trying to muffle the sounds coming through the wall. She'd used loud music, ear plugs, and the classic stuffing-your-pillow-over-your-head method. They almost never worked, but she put up with Mike and his apparently magnetic, girl-attracting dick anyway because the rent was cheap.

She was fine with it, as long as he never tried to make a move on her, of course. She didn't exactly… swing that way.

Emily stepped out of her room and went across the hall to Mike's door. She pressed her ear to the hollow wood and heard muffled talking. Maybe he was Skyping his mom again or something? Setting her face into a nonchalant expression, she nudged open the door and right away the voices trickled to a halt.

There her roommate was, with his usual tousled brown hair and a light coating of stubble along his jaw and chin. His mouth was frozen in an O-shape as his eyes spotted Emily.

Sitting on the bed with him was one of the most captivating girls Emily had ever seen. Her hair was long, dyed a pale beige blonde with darker roots. It cascaded down her back and shoulders in messy waves. She had a nice face of makeup, though her lipstick was smudged from what was no doubt a nice spit-swapping session with Michael. This was evidenced by the slight ring of pink around his mouth.

The girl was staring straight at Emily and not even bothering with any of the typical reactions. Usually when Emily accidentally walked in on Mike and a girl— this happened quite a lot, due to her being shit at detecting sex sounds through a door, Mike being shit at leaving a warning on the door, or maybe, deep down, Emily wanted to see just _who_ he brought home that night, because Mike Munroe never brought home just any Ugly Betty— the stranger would scowl at her for interrupting them, or would glance from Emily to Mike, or otherwise do something to show she couldn't care less about Emily.

But this girl tonight was vastly different. Not only was her appearance more striking, but her fixation on Emily was not one of annoyance or anger. The best way Emily's awful face reading skills could label this girl's face was _relieved_ , of all things.

"Uh— Em." Mike cleared his throat, lifting his hand in a casual wave.

"Hey," she tried to say, but her voice stumbled and faltered, still trying to find its footing like a newborn fawn.

Mike's eyes flashed from one girl to the other, then he went on, "So… you're back early."

She leaned heavily on the doorframe. "Oh, yeah. Um… it was… it didn't— end well, so they just sent us back home. My partner was stupid, and… yeah…" She wasn't even sure why she'd gone on about work as long as she did. It had been made clear long ago that Mike didn't care about anyone or anything except for himself and getting lucky at least five nights a week.

Then silence fell on them like a suffocating blanket. Both Mike and Emily shifted uncomfortably, her waiting for the usual dismissal— and, just possibly, an introduction to the third occupant of the room.

"Well," Mike said after half a minute, "this is… Jessica." He jabbed a thumb in the blonde girl's direction. "Jess… Emily."

Emily dragged her gaze back over toward this Jess. Getting a better look at her, Em quickly realized that Jess wasn't exactly a girl Mike had picked up from the bar. She was wearing just a sheer white t-shirt over lacy black lingerie. There were no clothes discarded on the floor, meaning that was all she had arrived in, probably by taxi or Uber or something. Some type of 1-800-Prostitute service. Was there an app for that now? That definitely seemed like something Mike would invest in.

Emily swallowed hard and said a meek "hi" at the same time a far more exuberant "hey!" exploded from Jess. The two of them stared at each other a few seconds more, while Mike's puzzled frown deepened.

After an eon or two, Emily stammered something vaguely resembling "See you later" before closing the door.

For a long while, too long of a while, Emily sat against the wall next to Mike's door. She wasn't sure what it was about Jess that got under her skin, but she couldn't get that soft, grinning face out of her mind. Emily could look at anything else in the hallway: the light fixture, her bedroom door, the threadbare carpet she was curling her toes into, and still her mind would drift to those shiny gems of green eyes.

When she checked her phone, it had been almost twenty-five minutes of her just sitting there contemplating the unreachable things in life. The nosiest part of her urged her to listen through her roommate's door again, but the moral side of her begged to differ. She ended up changing into her pajamas, wiping off most of her makeup, and lazily unpacking her things behind the closed door of her bedroom. As an extra caution measure, she kept her earbuds in and the music's volume high.

She emerged from her sanctuary at around eleven p.m. to rummage through the fridge for something edible Mike might've left behind. She didn't get her hopes up, because to him the definition of "oh yeah, I saved some pizza for you" was half a slice that was mostly floury crust.

Emily was almost elbows deep in the gently humming fridge, shoving aside beer cans and the like in pursuit of an old Tupperware container. When she finally got ahold of it, it turned out to be reddish mush that might have once been spaghetti. With a grimace, she turned to scrape the baby food-lookalike into the trash, only to be assaulted in the nicest way possible.

Standing casually in the entrance to the dark kitchen was Mike's one-night-stand lady friend. Her face was illuminated in the fading light of the fridge, until the door shut on its own and plunged them back in darkness.

"Is it your cheat day?" Jess hummed teasingly. Emily could hear her stride closer, and right on cue her heartrate began to pick up speed as if it was in a race.

Logic was not with Emily tonight. She nearly dropped the entire container into the garbage can. Her words trembled on the way up her throat. "Umm… every day's my cheat day," she replied while trying to match the girl's playful tone. She ended up sounding more defensive than amused.

Jess didn't speak for a few seconds, presumably waiting for Emily to turn away from the trash bin. Once she had dumped the empty container in the sink, Emily opened up the fridge again and was greeted once more by that gorgeous face, now in closer proximity than before.

"You have midnight snacks often?" Jess asked. Her voice remained low and sultry. Emily wondered if keeping up that tone was under the girl's "job" contract.

"I… try not to," Em answered honestly. "But hey, if there's no diet to follow in the first place, then… what the hell."

Jesus, even the girl's laugh was pretty. Light and airy, like swimming in clouds. Those giggles were music Emily would gladly listen to any day.

"Right, right. I would indulge, but… I do have a figure to maintain."

Emily paused. The cool air of the fridge did nothing to ease the sudden heat in her cheeks which was brought on by the word "figure." Just that tiny mention was enough to send Emily's sexually deprived mind wandering.

At last, she discovered half of a turkey sandwich wrapped in tin foil. A quick sniff test proved it eatable, and although it was soaked in mayo and definitely something the entirety of her privileged family would recoil from, it was food and Emily didn't hesitate in taking a big bite.

Still Jess watched her through the rapidly decreasing sliver of light from the fridge. Any other person might've found what she was doing creepy, but no alarm bells were ringing in Emily's head. She just quietly munched her sandwich and waited for their so far minimal conversation to resume.

"So… are you and Mike, like… an on-and-off kind of thing?"

Of all questions, Emily didn't expect that one. Mike seriously didn't tell her Emily was just a roommate? Ah, classic him.

"No, no, not at all." Emily shook her head quickly, wanting to wretch at the thought. "We're just roommates, I promise. I've been living here a little under a year, but nothing has ever happened between us. Really."

As Emily's eyes readjusted to the darkness, she saw the silhouette of Jessica's head nod. "Oh, cool. Cool." There was a sizeable pause, then the other girl abruptly stated, "I— I haven't even slept with him."

"Oh?" This piqued Emily's interest. The rest of the words came tumbling out before her brain could put a stop to them. "But isn't that, like, your job?" She swallowed her food. "Bone the dude, get paid, be gone by morning?"

There was a shift in mood after that. The other girl's words became terser. "No. I mean. I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"Hey." Jess crossed her arms. "This is… was… kind of my first gig, or job, or whatever you call it."

Emily chewed thoughtfully before responding. "So what went wrong?"

"I wimped out. I got here and we kissed for a while, then… you opened the door and—" Her voice cut off with a sharp breath, as if she'd gotten winded. "I guess… I had a moment of realization, like, 'what am I doing here?'"

"And what's the answer to that? Why are you a… hooker?"

Emily squinted and saw the girl visibly wince at the word. "To pay for college. I got in a few years late, and I still don't have the money for it. I'm drowning in student loan debt. My one ex told me I'd be a good hit-it-and-quit-it kind of gal, so, well… I thought, what the hell. Now I kinda wish I could turn back the clock to before I made that choice." A grim laugh rose up from her again, but was short-lived. "Because… I just don't know if I have it in me to sleep with people and then never see them again."

"Why?"

"Why? I mean… I guess I like longer-term things. I like getting to know a person. And I think… I wimped out with your roommate because when I saw your face, I realized that… you're one of those people I wanna get to know better. Does that make sense?"

A half-grin curled up one end of Emily's lips. She polished off the sandwich and set the wrapper on the counter. "Yeah. I guess that explains why you've spilled so much to me when I don't even know your last name."

"Riley," Jess said. The name was barely a whisper on her lips. "Jess Riley." She stuck out a hand and Emily shook it. "I think it's time we formally meet."

"Emily Davis. Pleasure is mine," Emily said with a touch of sarcasm that drew out Jessica's beautiful laugh again.

Quiet began to fall on them again, but Jess didn't let it get too far. Now she started sounding confident again, and that was much more fitting for her. "You know, if I decide to keep this up, my service isn't limited to men."

Her statement was so suggestive; Emily practically broke a sweat. It felt like firecrackers were going off in her chest.

"You could really tell that easily I'm gay?" Emily chuckled. "Not too shabby. I would take you up on your offer, but…"

In the dim light, she could see Jessica's face fall slightly. The flicker of confidence was still in her eyes, though whatever Emily said next would surely control whether it got extinguished or not.

"… I'm not really into the whole one-night stand thing, either. You're someone I'd like to get to know better too."

As Emily finished, the other girl's bright smile chased away some of the darkness. In a split second, Jess had moved in close to her. Emily knew what was coming next, and a small ounce of panic erupted in her stomach.

"I— I'd love to, but… my breath probably smells like mayo—"

The words died on her tongue as two gentle fingers were pressed against Emily's mouth. "That's fine," Jess whispered. That was the last thing Emily heard before their lips collided and she was launched into a world of bliss.

When they separated, both had shy grins gracing their faces. Emily couldn't quite fathom what to say, but luckily Jess had her covered.

"How does coffee in the morning sound?"

"Sounds like a plan," Emily agreed. With that, the pair retreated to Em's room and talked until their lips were too tired to move. They fell asleep with their fingers woven together and lips tasting of each other.


	4. tough love

**Thank you for the love! It's much appreciated.** **This is kind of a weird one, because I'm on a million pain meds right now. RIP me.**

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"I don't know, babe, I really think I should've bought the blue dress instead. I mean…" Jessica stepped back from the floor-length mirror, smoothing out her fancy silk gown. "I don't know. Like, this just looks… frumpy on me. Usually I can pull off red, but—"

Emily clicked down the hallway in her heels, her steps softening as she entered their carpeted bedroom. "Stop insulting yourself. You look great in any color. Now let's go."

Jess could see her girlfriend behind her in the mirror, scooping up her car keys and leather wristlet from the bedspread. A prickle of panic fluttered in her stomach. "Wait, what? What time is it?"

Em rolled her eyes. "It's almost seven." She eyed Jess, who had plunged her fingers into her messy hair, uneasily. "I swear, if you put even one more bobby pin in your hair, we'll be late."

"The reservation's for seven-fifteen," Jess protested. She jammed a few hairpins in her mouth, gripping them between her teeth. "I'll just be one more second, hon, I promise."

"Famous last words," Emily sighed as she walked out of the room again.

Jess tried to suppress the irritation burning in her gut. She quickly gathered her long hair into a braid, then twisted behind her head to form a bun. Her fingers worked nimbly as if they had minds of their own, knowing just the right way to tame every last stray blonde curl. After roughly a minute, she had it all pinned up and with one last layer of lipstick on, she was ready to go.

She walked out to the foyer and found Emily texting furiously on her phone. Her eyes were fixed intently on the device, the brown irises replaced with miniature white screens.

"Took you long enough," Emily grunted without looking up. She sent whatever message she'd been typing and picked up the car keys. "Alright, let's go."

Jess stopped her, fastening a hand on the other woman's arm. "Em, wait. Don't I— I mean, do I look good?" She moved back a few inches so Emily could better look her over. "Y'know, hot? Charming? Ravishing? … captivating, maybe?" She placed one hand on her hip and struck a pose, directing her eyes to the vaulted ceiling of their apartment. One strand of hair fell free from the bun, and she groaned.

"You look great. Now come on." Emily's brisk words stung like salt in a fresh wound.

Jess frowned, dropping her ridiculous pose and tucking the loose piece of hair behind one ear. "Maybe I should just cut my hair short like yours," she mumbled as they got into the car.

Emily laughed. "Don't be silly. You'd look—" She stopped short, taking in her girlfriend's hurt expression. Her eyes rolled as she started the car and drove. "Well, it's your choice what you do with it, I guess."

When they arrived at the restaurant— at 7:13 exactly, not a minute later, to Emily's relief— the other half of their double date group was waiting for them at the table.

Jess couldn't help but glance around with plain awe on her face. This place was amazing! The food smells wafting around were absolutely delicious, and the décor was eye-catching. Their booth was situated right next to an enormous aquarium of colorful fish. Her jaw was on the floor by the time she and Emily had slid fully into their seat. Right then, a clownfish with bold orange and white stripes swam by right next to Jessica's head. She shook Emily's arm excitedly like a little kid, grinning stupidly.

"Look, look, Em! I found Nemo!" Her words dissolved into giggles, while Emily, embarrassed, looked the other way.

"My apologies," Emily said to the other two women on the other side of the table. "She usually doesn't get like this until _after_ she's hit the wine."

"You don't hit wine, silly, you drink it," Jess remarked casually. "If you hit wine, it'll just spill all over the floor and make a mess." With that, she flashed a blindingly bright smile at her girlfriend.

The stifled fury on Emily's face was as easily readable as words in a book. Something about playing dumb like that always amused Jess, because the pained expressions Em would produce as a result were often hilarious.

On the opposite side of the table, Beth was perusing the menu while Sam sipped a frosty glass of water.

"We've known you guys since sophomore year of high school," Beth commented idly with a smirk. Her dark eyes flitted upward briefly to acknowledge Emily's effort to make apologetic eye contact. "We know how you two are by now."

"Yeah, it's not a problem at all," Sam chuckled. She pointed at a spot near the top of the large fish tank. "Aha! I found Dory." Jessica's gaze followed the other blonde's index finger, and sure enough there was a blue fish swimming between some tall plants.

One glass of wine later.

"I've never had shrimp before," Jess hummed as she scanned over the menu. She was resting her chin on one hand, her words muffled as she went on. "Maybe I should have shrimp. What do you think? The shrimp sounds good."

Emily turned to her with a stiff jerk of her head. A short curtain of black hair escaped from its holding place behind one ear. "There's a million types of shrimp on the menu, hon."

Jess let the menu fall on the table. "Well, then." She sucked the last few drops of merlot out of her glass. "What if I just want plain shrimp, huh? No sauces, no sides or add-ins, just plain shrimp fresh from the Pacific."

For the tenth time that night, Emily's eyes rolled to the ceiling. Beth tilted her head in confusion. "Like, raw shrimp?"

"No, no, no, I don't want sushi," Jess objected. "Just some nice, natural… _shrimp_." She opened her mouth again, but then the waiter came up and Emily swooped in before she could speak.

"She'll have the shrimp scampi."

Another glass of wine later.

"Y'know, Sam, did I ever tell you about how me and Em got together?" Jess paused, looking puzzled for a moment as if her own question didn't make sense to her. Then she added, "And Beth. Do ya'll know how—"

"I… don't think they need to hear that, hon," Emily cut in, only to be ignored.

Jess slurped down a mouthful of red wine and giggled. "Oh, man, it was at one of— one of Mike's big freakin' parties, right? I think it was. Anyway, we were out on the porch, _allllll_ alone, me and Em, and I was like, 'you know, you have a little bit of lipstick on your teeth' and she was like, 'no way!'"

Sam and Beth grinned. "Then what happened?" Beth asked.

The effects of the wine were already beginning to show on all of them. Emily's face was all flushed, cheeks burning as if she had rested them against stove burners. Jessica's hair was all askew, her sloppy bun hanging by a single strand. A pile of hairpins now sat on the table next to her plate. Beth's bangs were a little sweaty, sticking to her forehead. Sam was wearing a crooked smile and had a glaze in her eyes that only ever showed after two generous servings of wine.

"I really don't—" Emily started.

"So I told her… I told her I would get it for her," Jess explained. "And I did! Except— except not in the way you'd think." She leans over her mostly-eaten plate of food to throw an exaggerated wink at the other two girls. "I leaned in, a- and I kissed her! And the rest is history!"

Emily let out a relieved sigh. "Oh, thank god, I thought you were going to—"

"Oh, and then we fucked in Mike's mother's bedroom." Now Jess was cackling, and other nearby patrons were fixing death glares on them. They felt like lasers poking and burning Emily's skin, but Jess was like a pane of glass that the lasers just bounced right off of. She was impenetrable.

Another glass of wine later.

"That waiter is ho- o- ot!" Jess sang. "I- I should get his number."

Emily snorted. "Really? Do I suddenly not exist?"

Jess scrunched up her nose in bewilderment. "Who are you? I don't remember—" Her statement was broken off by a harsh shove from her girlfriend, and she was sent into another laughing fit.

Another glass of wine— and a half.

Jess stared up at the aquarium tank, her face illuminated in a softly glowing blue light. Over the past few hours, the fish had been swimming calmly, deaf to the rowdy booth that sat on the other side of the thick glass.

She rested her hand against the cool surface, watching as the fish continued swimming behind her fingers.

"I wonder…" She cleared her throat. "I wonder if the fish in there think… think my hand is a- a starfish?"

"Probably not," Emily said.

"Aw," Jess replied.

Beth slammed a hand on the table. "Hey, a girl can dream! If she aspires to have a hand as a starfish, then she can damn well have her hand be a starfish!"

Emily rolled her eyes.

"It's crazy," Sam commented suddenly, her eyes also focused on the tank. "These fish just keep… going. And going, and going. Life moves forward, and they move with it."

"Your point?" Beth grunted.

"There's nobody to tell them anything otherwise. No one is around to make them stop. They just, well… they go with the flow." Sam shook her head sadly, returning her gaze to her placemat. "What a sad life to live. No adventure, just the same route over and over and over again in the same tank, day after day, night after night. Nothing new, nothing interesting. Just the same old stuff."

Beth jerked her thumb at her girlfriend. "Well, damn. As you can see, wine makes her all depressing."

"Oh, shush," Sam retaliated. "I'm just… letting out my scrambled thoughts. Don't mind me."

Jess startled abruptly, working her hands like a madwoman. "No, you're right, Sam! Our lives _are_ boring." She whirled to face Emily. "We can't be like these— these fish! Just swimming around, doing the same shit every day." She gripped Emily's shoulders and shook her. "We have to _live_!"

"… okay, I think it's time for the check," Emily noted as she wrenched herself free of Jessica's surprisingly strong grasp.

Twenty minutes later, they were in the car on the way back home. Emily felt somewhat woozy, so she kept her eyes firmly on the road and refused to peel them away for anything.

When Jess piped up after a while of silence, her tone was not what Emily expected it would be. The slurring, obnoxious gigglefest had marched on, only to be replaced with a low, chilling parade of words.

"Why are you like this?"

Emily bit her lip. The red light at the intersection was glaring so brightly through the windshield, she winced. "What?"

"Boring. Dull. Just swimming along with life, like one of those stupid fish." Jess trailed one hand along the car's dashboard.

Emily stiffened. She sounded stone-cold sober now. How was that even possible? Did she guzzle some alcohol antidote in the bathroom before they left?

"Um. What are you trying to get at, hon?"

"What I'm 'trying to get at,'" Jess said, mocking Emily's voice, "is that you don't do anything fun. Like, ever. And every time I try to make us do something interesting, you always put me down and drag us right back into the normal stream of people." She crossed her arms and put on a pouty face, once again reminiscent of a child. "I want to be part of the un-normal stream."

"You mean the abnormal stream?"

She went right on as if Em hadn't spoken. "I want to do things. I want to go places! I don't want to live every day just like the one before. After we finally graduated from high school and college and all that shit, I thought— I thought we'd be free! But here we are, still stuck in the same stupid boring rut. Lives going nowhere except forward, always on the same road, no obstacles, no other paths intersecting to change things. Just the same, the same, the same." Her head snapped to the left so she could glare at her girlfriend. "And you encourage that boring sameness."

"Well, sorry if I don't want to risk my life doing something idiotic like skydiving. Or maybe I- I don't wanna get arrested. Maybe I just want to stay safe, Jess, did you ever think about that?"

"There's safe. And then there's _boring_ ," Jess pointed out. "Those words aren't cinnamons, but they aren't antonyms either."

Emily's brow furrowed. "Cinnamons? You mean synonyms?"

"Whatever!" Jess exploded. She crossed her arms and pressed them against herself. She was slouched so far down in the seat, her head was almost below the window. This proved to Emily that she was most definitely still drunk.

Another uncomfortable balloon of silence began to expand around them, closing them into the small space inside the car. It was almost suffocating. Emily rolled down a couple windows and let out the breath she'd been holding.

Out of the corner of her eye, her girlfriend was still slumped, glaring at nothing in particular. Her hair was completely free from the bun, having toppled down around her shoulders in a frayed braid.

Emily swallowed. Something about Jessica's words finally sunk in to her. She gritted her teeth, and with a flourish, she rolled down all four windows the entire way. Then out of nowhere, she jerked the wheel to the right.

"Woah!" The cry was forced out of Jess, as the car's seatbelts pressed into their guts hard enough to leave imprints. The sedan had turned onto a narrow, unpaved and dimly-lit road. Jess twisted around to look out the back window, watching as the lights of the highway receded in the distance until all the cars and people inside were just a cluster of twinkling red and white lights.

Wind roared in through the open windows, tickling Emily's ears and teasing her hair. She was grinding her teeth at this point, fear making her stomach feel hollow yet stormy at the same time. She slammed her foot down hard onto the gas pedal, and the car bounced over a pothole.

"Emily! What the _hell_ are you doing?" Jess shrieked.

"Am I still boring to you now? Huh?" Emily yelled over the screaming wind. "Am I still just one of those stupid fish, swimming along with life? Am I, Jessica?"

The car was going over seventy miles per hour now on this worn-out path. Gravel crunched under the tires and spit at the sides of the car, hitting with a million loud _clunks_.

It was almost completely dark this far away from civilization. Emily had no clue where they were, and she doubted either of their phones would have service this far out. She began to lessen her pressure on the gas pedal, trying to catch her breath. She put on the car's high beams and squinted around.

"Oh, fuck, Em—! There's a fence, watch—"

The car came to a literal screeching halt. The front bumper was mere centimeters away from a barbed wire fence. Emily's chest was sore from a combination of the seatbelt pressing in and her ragged breathing.

Jess immediately unbuckled herself and leaned over the center console to take Emily's face between her hands.

"What the hell were you thinking?" she whispered.

Emily could barely see her girlfriend's face in the shitty lighting. She was able to glimpse the outline of her slender face, but at this point she was relying more on touch than sight. She felt soft lips on hers, gentle fingers caressing her cheeks, a warm breath puffing against her mouth.

When they finally broke apart, they stared at each other in a way that could be described as nothing but sadly.

"Can't you— can't you be happy with the way I am?" Emily said. Her words almost drowned in the sound of cicadas chirping in the endless night landscape through the open window.

"Of course," Jess replied. "I mean… clearly adventure doesn't suit you too well." She continued rubbing her thumb along Emily's jawbone. "But I think there's a way we can… compromise."

"Really?"

"Yeah, totally." She sounded more and more confident with each word. "We can do your boring dinner dates with our friends, but every once in a while, we can also do something cool with Sam and Beth, like— like maybe rock climbing."

Emily started to scoff, but stopped just in time. In its place, a genuine smile formed. "Okay… rock climbing. I guess these legs could use some shaping up."

"Not just your legs, honey," Jess said jokingly, which earned her a harmless slap on the arm. "Alright, alright, I'm sorry. But don't you think I should be the one to drive home?"

"Are you kidding? Please tell me you're kidding." Emily began to turn the car around so it was hopefully facing the highway again. "You drank, like, two gallons of wine."

Finally, it was Jessica's turn to roll her eyes. "Yeah, whatever."


	5. quality of life

**Thanks for the review! It is much appreciated. Here is a quick thing I wrote while in a gloomy mood because ugh school. It's supposed to be kind of incoherent and rambling, like thoughts straight out of someone's mind. Please enjoy!**

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At five thirty in the morning, Jessica started her day.

She rose from her bed— in her mind, she woke up looking flawless, but in reality she woke up with a small zit on her nose and a nasty case of bedhead.

She went into the bathroom and began the lengthy process of perfection: the base, the layers of foundation, more and more layers until she barely recognized herself anymore. Her face was a canvas, and she was the artist, free to edit and tweak every last feature as she wished. Dustings of eye shadow were strokes of bold color, and blobs of concealer were dabs of smoothing paint. She deleted the zit on her nose, she edited her hair with the straightener, she worked harder to fix herself than she'd ever worked on anything else in her life.

At six forty-five in the morning, she was done editing. She went briskly through the front door, moving like the final winter breeze left behind in spring.

Her car was a small hatchback, a little silver Hyundai, nothing special or fancy like the hand-me-downs her two older brothers had received. She was the afterthought, the final cloud that just wouldn't blow away from her parents' otherwise perfect sunny sky. Everything about her life was unplanned, even from her very beginning, and she used to hate it but now she embraced it.

Seven-fifteen, and she was at Emily's house. Two gentle taps on the steering wheel— _honk, hooonk!_ — and she was graced with Emily's presence. Today was a Tuesday. On other days, days when it was Emily's turn to drive and Jessica's turn to be picked up, Emily would lay on the horn until the neighbors were complaining while Jess was just finishing her makeup.

Pulling up at the last intersection before their school, they witnessed an accident. An old rusty van with a business name displayed on its shuddering metal flank in chipping letters ran a red light. An SUV coming in the other direction slammed into it, creating a loud fireworks show constructed of twisted bumpers, bent rubber, and broken glass.

"Shit," Emily breathed.

Jess steered the car in a different direction that day.

Seven thirty was time for homeroom, and she arrived not a minute sooner. She collapsed in her desk, panting, the teacher's irritated stare burning her skin like judgmental lasers.

Seven thirty-five was first period, and she was still recovering from what she saw. The language of calculus was scrawled on the whiteboard, but it was nothing more than foreign letters to her. She read them but only saw blankness.

Eight twenty was second period. Other students snoozed around her, wasting their study hall. She used hers to text Emily. Anyone else but her would view that as a waste of time too.

Emily was never a waste of time.

Nine-ten, third period. Biology class was filled with textbooks and questions on the characteristics of life. "What qualities does an organism display to show it is living?"

She thought hard, what did it mean to be alive? Being alive meant summer days, walking in the middle of a residential street with fingers intertwined and popsicles dribbling down their chins, being alive meant gentle kisses and warm cuddles under blankets, being alive meant being in love with your best friend. Being alive meant that sometimes the best things are what can only be imagined.

She wanted to be alive.

Ten was fourth period, French, her fourth year studying it and yet her brain contained only half a year's worth of knowledge. The test that was passed back to her was unrecognizable. Last time she saw it, it was clean and white and marked vaguely with graphite. Now it was marred with red X's, completely slathered in red ink like a bloody battlefield. Her mind felt like a battlefield.

What did it mean to be alive?

Ten-fifty, fifth period, European history. A class where she liked watching the rain fall outside the window, where she got to twist a lock of hair around her pencil like it was some kind of cheap curling iron. That Tuesday, she twisted and twisted the blonde strand until she was at her scalp, and other kids were looking at her strangely.

Did she want to be alive?

Eleven-forty blessed her with sixth period lunch, and her eager feet carried her all the way to the cafeteria. She had friends to eat with, Mike and Sam and Ashley and a few others, all giggling over cartons of tasteless milk and fries like solid grease. And still she waited, and wondered, and fake laughed at Mike's jokes.

Alive. Alive alive alive alive alivealivealivealiveal

Twelve-forty, taking her time getting to seventh period, knowing full well what was coming next. The gym was a swimming sea of uniform-wearing students, uneven waves of white t-shirts and blue mesh shorts. She played basketball with two bites of lunch sitting in her stomach, the tiny amount of food heavy like a stone.

What was it like to be alive? To be dead?

One thirty, eighth period English. They had the same plan set up every day, and it never failed to be carried out. Asking the teacher for a bathroom pass, skipping off down the hall— she always entered second, and Emily was always there first.

Running her hand along the empty stalls, pushing every door just a little to make sure it was unlocked and unoccupied. Alone alive alone alive alone alive—

They were alone. And when she opened the final door, there Emily was. The door was closed behind her, the loose lock slid into place, and in that moment all Jess felt was the other girl's closeness in that cramped stall, just her and Em and a toilet and a wall of graffiti. "Call me! 555-2598," "Becky sucks whale cock" plus an unneeded visual sketch of Becky's apparent hobby, "Follow me on Insta " with the username smudged into oblivion.

You could be alive, but you could just as quickly be snuffed out like a candle flame, be smudged into oblivion like ink on a bathroom wall. Not everyone was a permanent pen. Nobody was a permanent pen.

When Emily's lips touched hers, she felt remarkable. She was wonderful, every lungful of air felt like breathing helium, she was the highest she had ever been in her life. Everything was wonderful.

Maybe, right then in that bathroom stall of their nondescript high school, she was alive.

Being alive with Emily was the only type of alive Jess wanted to be, she decided as Emily's lips traced her collarbone and tickled her neck. She was pressed against the stall door, sweaty, fingernails scrabbling at it and its coolness seeping into her neck while Emily's warmth filled her up inside.

She wanted to ask, "Do you ever think we should just stop doing this?"

But she didn't ask.

She wanted to stop.

She didn't want to stop.

Emily was always the first to leave. She would abruptly stop, tear herself away as easily as ripping a page out of a notebook. Slip through the stall door, smooth out her hair, and leave leave leave.

Jess was always the last to go. When Emily left her, it wasn't a fleeting feeling, like ripping off a band-aid. It was a feeling that lingered, swarming her like a hive of angry bees and filling her lungs with a poisonous smoke that she wanted to scream out. The version of herself in the mirror, with sticky red lipstick stains all over her face and neck like those red X's on that French test, was not the same version of herself leaning over the sink with mascara tears running down her face, she was furious and heartbroken and most certainly not alive.

Two thirty, and school was over for that Tuesday. She walked out to her car and some time later found herself sitting at that same intersection.

There was no longer any sign of that morning's accident. All the evidence was cleared away, swept up into the dustpan and dumped elsewhere so no one would have to be reminded. Yet it lingered within her, what she saw. It could not be unseen.

She dialed a number at two thirty-nine and Emily picked up on the first ring.

"I can't do this," she said.

"Can't do what?"

Can't do what. Can't do _this_ , Jess wanted to say, can't be tortured anymore, can't pretend what they had was nothing when to her it was everything, can't feel one way only for Emily to feel another, can't wish she could enjoy the perfect kisses when to her they only felt like daggers embedding in her neck, can't breathe when she was only ever alive for five minutes during eighth period.

"You're beautiful," Emily told her.

What did it mean to be alive? What were the qualities of life?

Emily was Jessica's oxygen. A five-minute supply of oxygen could not sustain a life.

"I love you," she said.

The red light still glared at her through the windshield. The seat belt was taut against her heaving chest. The fresh hickeys on her neck still sizzled on her neck like cigarette burns.

"What?"

Something happened. Glass splintered and shattered and pierced. Blood dribbled down her chin, sickly sweet like popsicles in summer. A phone landed on the grass outside as the first whines of police sirens sounded.

"Hello? You there?"

"Hello?"

" _Hello_?"

"He—"


	6. never grow up

**Since these are romantic one-shots, I knew it would be inevitable that I'd include the whole "having a baby together" adventure. I'm not really satisfied with how this one turned out, but I'm too tired to edit anymore. So please enjoy!**

* * *

Warm tears streamed down Jessica's cheeks like salty waterfalls. She sniffled, wiping her nose and not caring if her mascara was running. This surely had to be the worst day of her life.

She leaned into Emily's side, breathing in the scent of printer ink and leather upholstery that was buried in her pantsuit. "I— I can't believe it, Em…"

She didn't even have to look up to see Emily's eye roll. By now, Jess could practically hear the sound of her wife's eyes rolling around in her head like cautiously amused brown marbles.

"She's just starting school, hon, not being shipped off to war," Em pointed out.

"I know… I just… it's just so… oh, god." Jess straightened suddenly, grabbing both of Emily's arms and giving her a little shake. "I feel so old! _We_ are so old now! Right? I- I mean… our daughter is _five_ now, Emily! Do you realize what this means?"

Emily shrugged. "It means… she's growing up?"

"Growing up? It means that soon there'll be no more blanket forts, no more finger-painting on the walls, no more— no more 'Stuffed Animal Battle,' no more—"

"Are you kidding? She's only five, not thirteen. There are still plenty of years left to play 'Stuffed Animal War of Attrition."

"But before we know it, she _will_ be thirteen! And we'll be even older then. And she won't even want to be seen with us, she'll just hang out with her friends all the time and have sleepovers and not care about Mommy and Me Makeup Nights!"

Emily wrapped an arm behind Jessica's back to pull her into a side hug. "I actually have a feeling she will care even more about makeup nights when she's a teenager. She just… probably won't be smearing lipstick on her eyebrows anymore at that age."

The two of them fell silent for a moment, watching as the last of the kindergarteners filed into the school. Their daughter was at the back of the pack, and at the last second she whirled around and bounced up and down, waving her chubby arms to catch her mothers' attention.

A choked sob escaped Jessica's throat again. "Oh my god, oh my god, Em, she's so grown up!"

Emily squinted, throwing on a smile and returning the little girl's wave. Ella Riley-Davis was many things, one of them a sincere blessing. She had Jessica's natural brunette hair, which was also long and wavy. For her first day of school, Jess had meticulously swept it back with two barrettes, but even from a distance Emily could already see one clip loosening and a few stray strands falling in Ella's face.

The girl was almost a carbon copy of Jess—bright green eyes, cute sloped nose, big teeth and mischievous smile— just several feet shorter. That made sense, considering Jess was the one who carried her. It still felt like the biggest decision of their lives had only happened last week.

The question of having a child had, naturally, first been proposed by Jess. She had always been excited about becoming a mom; even way back before they got married, she would gush to Em about cute baby laughs and chubby baby faces, about dressing your kid up in cute clothes, and teaching them about everything in the world. Emily's counterarguments had always been, in respective order: no, baby laughs make them sound like they swallowed the devil, and no, newborns look like wrinkled old men, and no, children are not mannequins for you to experiment on, Jess.

But she didn't really have a rebuttal for the last point. Deep down, it excited Emily to have someone to show everything to. Bringing a new, fresh life into the world— that was scary. This tiny person would be helpless, and completely new to the world. They couldn't tell their foot from their forehead, let alone aspirin pills from candy. They would be unfamiliar with every last thing in the world, but over time Emily and Jess would familiarize them and explain how things worked. That was a thrilling prospect for Emily.

And so, after two years of marriage and Jess begging, Emily agreed. The next choice had not been too much of a debate for them.

 _"I've been setting aside money, so if we want to pay for a surrogate or maybe adopt, I can—"_

 _"No. No way. I wanna be pregnant."_

 _"Are… are you sure?"_

 _"Yes. Absolutely."_

 _"You want to… to get fat, have weird cravings, and let your feet swell until they're basically unrecognizable?"_

 _"Yup!"_

 _"You're crazy."_

 _"I know. But you're the one in love with crazy."_

 _"Can't argue with the facts."_

Emily had been worried Jess would regret her choice. But she remained so insistent on being the "carrier of life," Emily found it impossible to let either of their hopes down.

The next obstacle had been finding a suitable sperm donor. That had certainly been an adventure.

When they told the group their plans, Josh and Mike had immediately jumped out of their seats.

 _"I can do it!"_ they both announced at the same time, then right after glared at each other. Josh shoved his way to the front.

 _"Really, pick me. I've been told I'm good in bed, Jess, so that part will be painless—"_

Mike shooed him away. _"I am super healthy. Like, really, really healthy. Good, strong genes. Everyone in the Munroe bloodline is guaranteed a long and prosperous life, I swear."_

Emily crossed her arms. _"No, dumbasses, absolutely not. First off, no skeevy Josh Washingtons are going to be getting anywhere near my wife. Second, we're not looking for a donor who we know personally. Because god forbid if we willingly allow any Mike Munroe spawn to roam this planet."_

Jess had been gentler. _"Yeah, we actually have been looking through possible donors for a while now. It's been tough finding a guy without at least one flaw, though."_ She'd then pulled out her phone and began scrolling through a bunch of profiles on donors. Very few had actual pictures of the guys, but basically all had vivid physical descriptions and health histories. Sam and Ashley leaned in curiously, eyes feasting on the information.

 _"Like, look,"_ Jess said as she swiped onto a new profile. _"This guy sounds amazingly handsome by the description, but then it says he has a history of heart disease and pancreatic cancer in his family."_

In the end, it came down to compromise. They selected a donor who was apparently one-eighth Korean (that piqued Emily's interest) and had an almost spotless slate health-wise. If his or her bio dad's horrendous acne was passed on, Em had no doubt they would help their child through it.

For weeks afterward, Jess would lay upside down on the sofa, her legs propped up against the pillows and her hair like a blonde waterfall pooling on the floor. Whenever Emily spotted her sitting like that— which was almost every day— their conversations tended to go something like this:

 _"Just what the hell are you doing?"_

 _"Nothing."_

 _"Jess."_

 _"None of your beeswax, girlfriend. It's just a little method to get it to… y'know… stick."_

 _"Oh… my god."_

 _"Now, could you be the best wifey ever and get me some ice cream, please? Just a scoop or two… or, on second thought, just bring me the whole damn carton."_

Patience had never been one of their strongest virtues, so those few anxious weeks had been a trying time. Jess went through pregnancy tests and boxes of tissues at the rate an army would for very different items. Emily found herself repeating the same words over and over.

 _"It's too early to tell, baby."_

 _"Too early yet."_

 _"Too early. Too early. Not yet…"_

After some time, she wondered if she was more telling herself that than telling her quietly crying wife who had soaked the fabric of her maroon Nordstrom suit with anguished droplets.

One night five weeks later, however, the shoulder of her suit remained dry. Emily had entered their house, only to nearly step on a pacifier.

 _"What the…?"_ She let out a tiny grunt of surprise, kicking off her heels and leaving them to dangle from two fingers. As she continued shrugging off her coat, her wandering eyes noticed an entire trail of baby pacifiers leading down the hallway.

Emily followed the trail, keeping a confused kink in her eyebrow and a nervous bite on her lower lip. The unusual path ended right at their closed bedroom door. Emily took a deep breath, then twisted open the knob and stepped inside.

She was greeted by a sly-looking Jess and a large collection of dinner rolls scattered over the floor— and of all things!

Emily let the shoes clatter to the floor. Jess maneuvered her way carefully around the rolls, and bent to pick up one. She tossed it back and forth from one hand to the other, a smirk flickering on her lips. She had on a tight gray camisole and black leggings, with her hair in a long, fraying braid that trailed past one shoulder.

 _"You've made… quite the mess here, huh?"_ Emily finally asked.

Jess stopped juggling the bread. Slowly, her eyes traveled from the floor to meet Emily's. Then, with trembling hands, she nudged up the hem of her shirt to expose her flat belly and held the roll over it.

 _"I guess you could say I've… got a bun in the oven."_ She spread her arms wide, a smile shattering her previously secretive features.

Emily grinned. An explosion of nerves fizzed in her own stomach. She rushed forward into Jessica's arms, stepping on a few stupid buns on the way. _"Oh my god… that is the dumbest expression ever,"_ she mumbled into the other woman's hair.

 _"Aw, I love you too."_

 _"I do."_ Em pulled back, placing her hands on either side of Jessica's face. Her features were gorgeous, always worthy of being painted into a masterpiece and framed on the wall. This moment was no exception, and Emily wanted to save a snapshot of her right then forever in her mind. _"I love you so much."_

Jessica was truly unlike any other woman. She wore the pregnancy like a stylish outfit, garnering compliments and smiles left and right. Her skin was supple and her hair glowed. Her smile was radiant and her hands were always caressing and holding her bump. Emily was positive she had never been more in love with anyone else in her life.

Their daughter was born at three in the morning during an ungodly November ice age. Emily had imagined the classic image of childbirth: Jess screaming until her throat was sore and raw, and Emily's hand being squeezed until her fingers were purple. But what started as a calm and collected, _"Em, I think my water just broke…"_ morphed into a quick stop at a McDonald's drive-thru and a doctor telling Emily hours later that no, your wife is not dilated enough to safely deliver this baby and yes, she will need a C-section. Emily had stood and watched, immobile and useless as a corpse, as Jess was suppressed and relaxed with pain meds. Their daughter emerged into the world with a furious cry and a wild thrashing of her arms, her way of announcing _"I'm here, everyone! Bow down!"_ Emily cut the cord and tried not to wretch at all the blood and tried not to think about how she would have to explain to Jess when she woke up that a new scar would soon join the old ones.

But when Jess roused from her medicated slumber, she only giggled and cuddled their baby girl and mumbled, _"C- can… can we go to McDonald's again after this?"_

Emily let her wife's messy blonde waves slip through her fingers like soft sand. _"Sure, hon. You can have all the Big Macs in the world."_

Jess nestled her head against Emily's side and sighed. Right then, it felt like every ounce of happiness in the world was contained in that hospital room. If the world could really give them something as pure and precious as this tiny girl who was all theirs, then… her faith in the world was fully restored. All of her misgivings were washed away like a sand castle on the beach.

And now, as Emily watched that same little baby walk into kindergarten for the first time, her heart fluttered. She slowly led Jess back to the car. Neither of them said much at first; Em was too busy focusing on the road and Jess was too focused on digging tissues out of her purse. It was only when Emily pulled into their driveway that she allowed the words she had been carefully arranging for the past ten minutes to be heard.

"Jessie… I know you love her. I do too. But sometimes you just have to… loosen the leash a little. You have to let go bit by bit. And I know letting go is never easy, but… I'll help you through it. I promise."

"I love her to pieces," Jess said, her voice muffled by the crumpled tissue in her fist.

"So do I. And Ella loves us, too. She told me so this morning."

Gradually, Jess lifted her face from the soiled tissue, her red-rimmed eyes roaming Emily's face and setting her cheeks on fire. It was insane how she still had that effect on her after all these years.

"It'll be okay. I'll help you through it," Emily repeated as, seconds later, the two of them embraced over the center console. Her only reply was a sniffle into the shoulder of her gray pantsuit.

When that day ended, washed away by the speckled navy blanket of night, Jess was still a little fragile from that morning's events. Her eyes were puffy and hurt every time she blinked. Her throat was slick and stung with the taste of tears.

She was just making her way down the hall, and was about to enter their bedroom when she noticed the door to Emily's home office open a crack. She pushed it a tad more, and found the room bathed in the dim yellow light of Em's desk lamp. It placed a rustic and subdued filter over the scene, and it made Jessica's heart lurch a little. Emily's back was to the door, and she was hunched over something. Jess crept more into the room, her feet silent on the plush rug. When she finally reached the desk, she stood over Emily's shoulder and her breath hitched.

In shaking hands, Emily held a picture from the day everything changed. Jess in a rumpled hospital gown, smiling through a haze of pain meds as she cradled the newborn Ella. At first Jess thought the odd spots dotted over the picture were just dirt on the glass frame, but when more kept appearing, she realized they were tears.

Emily had always been one to cry behind closed doors.

Jess stepped backwards until she was out of the room, and re-positioned the door so it was barely ajar once more. If Emily ever found out she had seen her doubled over and weeping over the past, Jess knew she would murder her. Even so, she decided that while Emily helped her get through their daughter growing up, Jess would help her too, only in more subtle ways. It wouldn't hurt.


	7. red ribbons

**She'd rather be a forgettable blur than a crystal-clear eyesore. "I'll never be able to thank you enough for rescuing me."**

* * *

The front door of the apartment swung open as Emily's tailbone dug into the handle. Keys clinked and jingled and collided with wood, manicured black nails scraped down the wall, and hot breaths met the cool air, fast and interlaced with moans.

Jessica worked her hands nimbly, slipping her fingers under Em's dress and sliding them up her legs, teasing the sensitive skin of her inner thighs with light taps and tickles. She was so focused on her work, in fact, that she forgot to breathe for close to a minute. All that mattered was her lips touching Emily's, her hands whispering over the soft skin underneath Emily's dress, her foot kicking the door closed behind them.

Emily was working efficiently, too. She had already slipped her fingers behind Jessica's neck and unclasped her bra. Now she was unzipping her dress and yanking it down, and—

"Oh… oh my god." Em leaped away, slamming into the wall and wincing.

"What?" Jess pulled back, breathless. Her fingers were removed from the warmth and nirvana below the waistband of Emily's panties, and now her hands had nothing better to do besides wring themselves nervously. "What's wrong?"

"What the…" Emily gulped and pointed a shaking finger at the other girl. "What the _hell_ is wrong with your skin?"

"What…" Jess repeated dumbly. Whatever else she had been planning on saying died on her tongue. She retreated farther into the apartment— one with a wide foyer and polished oak floors, so undoubtedly Emily's— and bit back a cry.

Emily loomed closer now, her accusatory finger still jabbing harshly in the air at the blonde. "Your chest, and your shoulders, and your _face_! Holy shit. How did I not see it before?" She leaned in close, gorgeous brown eyes taking in and scanning every imperfect line like words on a book page. "You're _ugly_."

"No." Jessica's throat was raw. It felt like she'd been crying for hours, but her face was dry. Her tonsils felt swollen, and her teeth were damn close to being ground into a paste.

" _No_? Look at yourself. Fucking look!" Hands enclosed on both of her shoulders, whirling her around to face a conveniently-placed mirror. Jess was all disheveled, her bra gone and gown pulled halfway down so her upper torso was exposed to the bitingly cold air of the empty apartment. "Disgusting," Emily spat into her ear.

"No." Jess shook her head harder and harder until the image reflected in front of her was no longer visible. She'd rather be a forgettable blur than a crystal-clear eyesore.

Hours later when she wrenched herself free from the nightmare, she was still shaking. Her bed was chilly and unwelcoming, with sheets stitched from frost and pillows like blocks of ice. She slid out and stumbled into the bathroom.

The bluish glow from the hallway nightlight was enough. She looped two fingers in the collar of her old, paint-splattered t-shirt and pulled it down to show her chest. The red ribbons were still there, tattooed onto her skin in all their puffy and gracefully asymmetrical glory. She ran her fingers over them, feeling how deep they drove into her skin, through all the layers and layers. She wondered if they reached her ribs, marring the bone with bruises. It would explain how breathing made her lungs feel like blenders filled with knives.

For class the next day, she threw on some leggings and a worn green flannel that she'd gotten from the Goodwill near her house at some point during high school. Since then, it still held on to all of its buttons and maintained the perfect soft-to-the-touch feel that no brand-new shirt could.

Twenty-six minutes later, she was slouched across from Emily in the Starbucks at the edge of campus. Two hot cups of coffee sat between them on the sticky table, one with two shots of espresso and the other filled with cream and sugar, one with the lid off to let it cool and the other with the lid on to keep in the steam and soothe a particular sore throat.

"You good?" Emily hummed around the edge of her open cup. Jess watched her teeth nibble and play with the paper lip, bending it and leaving little marks. Jess wanted to be that helpless paper coffee cup underneath Emily's maroon-lipstick-painted mouth.

"Yeah," she finally replied. It was clear Emily wasn't fully into the question. It had been casually spoken, a small thought in an otherwise crowded mind that had just so happened to pick up the absence of Jessica's normally bubbly personality. She was never the most perky in the morning— neither of them were— but still Emily had noticed something was a little off. It counted, right? Jess told herself it counted, if only to make the warm, fuzzy blanket wrap tighter around her heart.

She wondered if the scars reached her heart. Was her heart bruised?

Emily scrolled on her phone, long thumb extending and contracting on the screen as countless photos zoomed past under the colorful logo of Instagram. Jess watched her for a long moment, then turned to read the "CAUTION: HOT" warning etched on the lid of her coffee again and again as if it was the most interesting piece of literature in the world.

"You study for Lang last night?" Jess asked just to fill the dead air between them with some substance.

"Mhm," Emily said. "Read the whole damn unit three times over and contemplated dropping out of life forever. Why?"

Jess gave her a bland laugh. "No… I'm just pretty sure I'm gonna fail."

Em rolled her eyes. "This isn't high school anymore, sweetie." Her thumb froze for a second, and she squinted at her phone screen, then double-tapped the photo and moved on. "Now when we say 'I think I'm gonna fail,' we will actually fail."

Jess wondered if there was a specific reason Emily chose this place over an Ivy League. She could wonder herself to death but would never get an answer.

She lowered her head again. Zero eye contact. Good. "Yeah," she mumbled. "I can't wait to see the shitstorm."

Emily was not a product of her nightmares, Jess told herself as she stripped off the flannel and leggings at the end of the day. Emily was a product of her dreams, a contributing factor who just so happened to be intimidating as hell, Jess told herself as she crawled under the covers. Her fingers shook as they slipped past her underwear into dangerous territory. Emily was a dream.

The next day was Starbucks again. Today Emily purchased a scone as well, and they sat one table over from their usual one in the corner, which was taken. Emily nibbled her scone thoughtfully like how she nibbled the edge of her open coffee cup. The two of them played footsie under the table, ballet flats tangling with old Uggs around the table's tricky legs. Jess scrolled on her phone. Jess took the lid off her coffee cup today.

The next day was a Saturday. Emily tossed one of her short, very minimal dresses at Jess when she mistakenly asked to borrow something for the party. For a solid fifteen minutes Jess stood behind the closed bathroom door, looking at this dress that would be impossible for her to wear. Every other detail was correct: they were the same size, they both looked good in blue, they both adored the lace design.

But Emily didn't have red ribbons on her chest and scars on her ribs and a bruised heart. Jess bent over the sink and cried softly and mutely until she didn't have enough air to cry anymore.

"Dammit, Jess, you're taking too long. I'm coming in."

Panic seared through Jessica's blood like flames. She jumped back from the sink, watching helplessly as the door swung open, the rusted old lock easily giving way to a strong push from Emily's shoulder.

"You're not even dressed," Emily pointed out the obvious. Then her gaze traveled up to find swollen red eyes. "Uh, what's wrong?"

"I… I can't wear this," Jess sniffled.

"Huh?" Em stepped forward, taking the dress from her hands. It looked like the skimpiest piece of fabric Jess had ever seen in her life, when before it would have been the cutest thing ever that she'd be lucky enough to grab off the hanger. "I thought we were the same size."

Jess shrugged lamely. "I… decided I don't like it."

"Why not?"

"I just don't. It's…"

"It's…?"

She spun and faced the wall. "Why does it matter? I just don't wanna wear it, Em. I'll find something else."

Jess waited several seconds, then assumed it would be safe to turn around and leave. But Emily was still standing in the doorway, blocking her sole method of escape. "I love you, Jess. You're gonna tell me what the problem is, and you'll tell me now. I'm not just letting this slip by. You've _worn_ this dress before."

"… 's too low-cut," Jess said.

"Too what?"

Her soft hands curled into rock-hard fists. "It's too low-cut!" she yelled.

"And since when has that stopped you?"

"I just don't want my boobs hanging out. Is that a crime?"

Emily sauntered closer, crossing her arms. "The last time I checked, that was most _definitely_ a felony in Jess Land." When her brief pause earned no giggle or smirk, she tilted her head and frowned. "Jess. Are you being serious? What's really the matter?"

Jess turned sideways so that she was looking into the mirror over the sink. She could see Emily in her peripheral vision, but she was just a smudge with no discernable expression. Just the way Jess liked it.

"I can't wear things like that anymore," she said quietly. "Not since… the mountain."

The smudge in the outer reaches of her vision made a sudden movement, and it took half a second for Jess to realize that movement was to step closer to her.

After that night, it had taken a grand total of two weeks for Jess and Emily to start speaking to each other again. They hugged and talked shit out. Emily ended things with Matt and Jess gently broke things off with Mike. In the ten months since, they had grown inexplicably closer. But Emily still lacked any knowledge of the red ribbons.

Until now.

When that sudden movement became caressing hands on Jessica's cheeks, the smudge turned into Emily again. They closed the gap together, their lips crashing in an explosion of symphony. It was a representation of healing and everything right in the world and _healing_.

Then she felt cold air on her chest. Emily's primly-prepared outfit was already showing signs of imperfection, and that meant there was no going back. So she had taken the liberty of starting the task of removing Jessica's shirt.

 _But_.

"Oh my god," Emily whispered, and _fuck_ , it was just like her dream, all over again—

But what she got instead was "Why didn't you tell me?" and an intake of breath sharp enough to make Jessica's lungs ache again.

"I wasn't brave enough. They're ugly," she stated simply. There was no point in dodging the truth. They had already made it too far. They were both in too deep. No going back.

And then there were lips tracing down her collarbone and following the uneven pattern of the red ribbons. Emily's lips danced and twirled over her scars, kissing the ache away and making all five senses fuzzy and bleary.

"They are _not_ ugly, Jessica. They're a symbol of survival. You fucking _lived_. And that's enough to make you beautiful." Emily straightened to look in her eyes. "Jess, being your friend again is the only thing that's made these past months bearable. I'll never be able to thank you enough for rescuing me."

Jess nestled her face in the warm space between Emily's neck and left shoulder. No words seemed good enough to form a decent response to that. All she could find were "You saved me too."

Too soon, Em moved away and leaned back against the grimy sink to begin undoing the straps of her heels. She had thin no-show socks on underneath, but she stripped those off also. Jess watched her during this, noting the way Emily's slim shoulder peeked out from the droopy sleeve of her top, the way her collarbone jutted out against the flawless pale skin. Envy burned in her gut.

And then the jealousy was extinguished. Emily held one of her feet up so that Jess could see.

"You think you're the only one who walked away from that place with anything missing?" She wiggled her toes, and Jessica's eyes widened at the gap were two digits should've been. "I wore those stupid thin boots, thinking more for style than comfort and, well, sub-zero temperatures in the mines." Her other foot had half a toe gone as well.

Jess could do nothing but gape. "Wha… I- I didn't—"

"Took a little physical therapy, but walking isn't hard. As you can see, I still totally slay with heels." Emily placed her foot back on the ground and embraced Jess. "Listen… I know that all of us lost something that night. There's still pieces of everyone on that mountain. But what matters is the majority of us are still in one whole piece. So trust me, I don't give a shit about any silly scars. As long as I have the rest of you to enjoy. Okay?"

Jess nodded. "Okay." Pause. "Could we… um… skip the party, maybe?"

Em grinned. "I was hoping you'd say that."

Jess was almost positive this wasn't a dream, but just to be sure, she didn't pinch herself.


	8. nice bod, by the way

**Jess washes ashore on an island and comes across a rather unusual specimen. "Promise you won't judge me?"**

* * *

All Jessica remembered was blue. The color had surrounded her like a cloak, suspending her in a chilly silence. It was as if all her limbs were attached to strings, and she was the ocean's plaything. The waves tossed and turned her and, being the limp and unconscious ragdoll she was, there was nothing she could do but let it carry her some distance.

Jess hadn't been counting on stupid Josh losing control of the sailboat. She'd been the only one he could convince to go out on the water with him. One minute they were drifting peacefully, her fingers skimming the sea's murky surface; then the next, they were engaged in a vicious wrestle match with the sails. The sting of rope burn still sizzled on her red and raw palms, but that was nothing compared to the state of the rest of her body.

She washed onto some shore a long while later like a piece of dead seaweed. Flat against the sand and weighed down by a once-cute waterlogged sundress, Jess struggled to sit up and examine her surroundings.

In front of her was the classic island-in-the-middle-of-nowhere. Lush green undergrowth and palm trees covered a large expanse of the land, and the remainder was sand. Fairly wide streams of water stretched far into the island, slicing through the sand. When she turned around, the only sight there to greet her was the pale blue sky meeting the dark blue sea at an uneven, stormy horizon line.

Next she looked down at herself. It was funny, really, how much she'd always admired the Pacific Ocean from afar. But once it'd been given the chance to play with her, it completely and unabashedly ruined any adoration she once held for it.

Her sundress, as noted before, had gone from a light and airy yellow patterned piece of adorableness to a sodden rag. She might as well have been wearing a soaked brown paper bag, and no one could tell the difference. Her phone was long gone, likely having went down with Josh's ridiculous "manly" sailboat. Her nails were ragged— the Pacific had nibbled away at her magenta manicure with zero shame— and grit was caked in every crevice. She only had one shoe left— a simple sandal that was clinging onto her foot by one measly strap. She unclipped it and left it to be lapped up by the greedy waters, figuring there was no point going on with uneven steps.

As it turned out, however, she didn't need mismatched footwear in order to achieve uneven steps. When she tried to stand fully, her right leg just staggered forward and her knee was sent crashing back into the sand. This brought on an unexpected bite of pain, and suddenly sand crystals were the sharpest little shits in the world.

It was only once she'd wiped away some clumps of saltwater-scented hair that she uttered her first words spoken in hours. "Fuck… me…" Jess panted. Then her other knee fell into the sand and the rest of her soon followed.

When she awoke, it was most certainly not in the same place as before. Ahead of opening her eyes, she made sure to twitch every finger and toe to ensure she was still all in one piece. Then, ever so slowly, she peeled open one eye.

Through the hazy filter of shock and exhaustion marring her vision, it appeared she was in some type of alcove. Smooth stone walls stretched up around her, and warm water repeatedly reached in to tickle her elbow before receding again.

She forced herself upward, grunting as dull pain gnawed at every single one of her bones. As her vision gradually cleared, Jess noticed that she was no longer wearing the wet sundress. Her body was now completely naked under a thin layer of seaweed that had been woven into a blanket or cover of some sort.

With all this change of surroundings, it perplexed her to realize she was alone. Someone had obviously messed with her. Yet when she tested her horribly dry throat by calling out "Hello?", nobody materialized.

Her gaze shifted down to the water. It was closing in again, tugging gently at the edges of the sand basin to her left. This calm little finger of the ocean planted another kiss on her elbow, then retreated once more.

Jess would have marveled at the beauty and tranquility this alcove offered, if it weren't for the head that suddenly popped up from the swirling water.

"Wh—" she sputtered, leaping back as best as she could without dislodging the seaweed blanket.

The head smirked at her. It belonged to a very attractive girl who was probably around her age. Sleek black hair was plastered to her head and neck, and two coffee-colored gems peered at Jess with a calculated curiosity. As she lifted herself further out of the water, well-toned shoulders were revealed. She rested the weight of her upper body on her arms, which had enough muscle alone to knock Mike Munroe out cold.

"Well, hello there," the girl murmured. "Guess you finally decided to wake up and tell me what you're doing on my turf."

"On your…" Jess coughed, her throat screaming for the kind of water that didn't have salt. "… turf?"

"That's right. To be honest, I almost couldn't believe it when I saw your bony ass wash up on my shore. Thought you were a piece of sea trash or something at first, then I saw you move and stumble around like a legless crab, so I realized you were really an intruder coming to encroach on my land and disturb my peace. I would've left you to fry in the sun, but I didn't want your rotting carcass blemishing my island, so…" She drummed her nails on a half-eroded rock. "Tell me, intruder, what are you doing here?"

Jess narrowed her eyes as she processed this information. " _Your_ island?" she rasped after a minute. "No one just _owns_ an island."

The girl tilted her head. "What, you wanna see a goddamn deed to the island or something? It's mine. They say I'm a personification of the island, after all. How could it not belong to me?"

At the moment, Jess was thinking more along the lines of this girl being a personification of the ocean. Hurtful and snappy.

She tried to say something in retaliation, but her throat had given out. She grasped in the air, mouthing "water" over and over again. The girl rolled her eyes and weakly splashed some of the saltwater at her.

" _This_ water?" she asked, feigning confusion.

Jess shook her head vigorously, pointing at her mouth and tacking on "fresh" in front of "water." Freshwater, freshwater, _freshwater…_

"Could've at least said please," the girl grumbled before she disappeared back under the water. Jess watched the surface ripple in her wake. Not even five minutes went by before the stranger had returned with a shell full of what was, thankfully, salt-free water. Jess accepted it eagerly, pressing her chapped lips to the shell and slurping the serving down.

"Thank you," she gasped. "Now, look, I… I don't know where I am. I was on a boat with my friend and there was a storm and I… we got separated."

"Aw, that's cute," said the girl. "Now tell me the truth."

Jess sat up more, clutching the seaweed to her bare chest. "First, you tell _me_ what you did with my clothes."

The girl gritted her teeth. "I stripped them off you because you would've frozen in that skimpy yellow thing you were wearing. It was soaked through." She hesitated, and that sinful smirk played at the corners of her lips again. "Nice bod, by the way."

"I— well, I could say the same to you!" Jess blurted out because she wasn't sure what else to say.

The girl looked just as surprised as Jess felt. Her jaw fell open slightly, then she chuckled. "I don't think you want to say that."

"Why not?"

"Doesn't matter. Now, we need to do something about that hair." Jess didn't miss the smooth transition to a different subject, but she decided not to object. This girl seemed far more defiant and stubborn than Jess had ever been in her life.

She took the bait. "What do you have in mind?" The stranger wasn't wrong; her hair was truly an atrocity at the moment. It was frizzed and knotted after being freely subjected to the ocean's torment for who-knows-how-long. It had dried into a semi-solid, crusty rats' nest that made her cringe just touching it.

"Sea foam," the girl said simply. "Really, try it. It's a great exfoliator and it detangles anything." She thrust a handful of the stuff in Jessica's face, but the blonde turned up her nose.

"It stinks!"

"That's the price you must pay for beauty. Come on."

Jess grimaced as she accepted the sea foam and slopped it onto her head. She could only use one hand to massage it into her scalp, as the other had to be used to hold up her weird seaweed cover-up.

"Just let it sit then rinse it out, and your hair will be good as new," the girl told her.

"Thanks." Jess paused, receding her hand from her head and flicking away the remnants of the unusual conditioner. "Sooo… my name's Jess. What's yours?"

The stranger frowned, genuine distrust flickering over her gorgeous features, but then she caved. "Emily," she said.

"Oh! That's a pretty name," Jess commented.

"Yeah…"

"So, Emily, why exactly _are_ you out here on this island? Do you have a family here or something? Friends? Any other people at all?"

"Sure, I have a family. But they live… far away."

Jess bit her lip as the conversation trickled to a stop. Emily looked withdrawn now, and Jess didn't want to probe at any possible sore spots. She swallowed and, at last, said, "Um… do you want to get out of the water? I'm literally a prune and only my toes are touching it. I can move over, I mean… I— sorry, I should've offered earlier, you got me freshwater and everything—"

Emily cut off her rambling with a curt head shake. "No, I think it's best if I stay in the water."

Jess couldn't help the question as it rolled off her tongue on instinct. "Why?"

"You don't want to know."

"Hey, you don't know that. I _do_ want to know. What's wrong?"

Emily gave one of her signature eye rolls. "Ugh, _fiiine_. Promise you won't judge me?"

"I promise."

And then Jess was dazzled by a sparkle of turquoise. At first glance she thought it was a fish emerging from the water behind Emily, but then she realized it was not a fish at all. Complete with shimmering blue-green scales that tapered into neat little fins, this girl had a freaking tail.

"You're a…" Jess was at a complete loss for words. After a few too-long, stammering seconds, she found them. "You're a mermaid."

"No shit I'm a mermaid," Emily grunted, flopping her tail back in the water. "And so, because of that lovely little condition of mine, I am not permitted to leave the water. Doing that means I die."

"Wow, really?"

"Yep. I'll suffocate and shrivel up like your stupid human skin does when it's in water for too long. Even if I _could_ , hypothetically, leave the ocean, I still wouldn't be able to walk." She gestured to Jess. "You have those slender human legs of yours. You can leave whenever you want."

Jess snorted. "Are you kidding? Where am I supposed to go? Do you expect me to just walk over the ocean back to California like I'm Jesus or something? I might be stuck here for a while."

Emily inched closer. "Does 'a while' mean forever?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

Jess grinned mischievously. "Find me better clothes than just seaweed, _please_. This stuff is super itchy. Then we'll talk."

Emily did not say a word before disappearing under the water again. Jess crawled forward, watching the sun glint off the scales of Em's tail as she swam away. How didn't she notice before?

She didn't trust this mermaid completely yet. How could she? They had only just met.

But Jess had a strong, lingering feeling that she would come to like this Emily— and that feeling wasn't leaving anytime soon.

She could get used to being lost at sea.


	9. of frizzy hair and green eyes

**Sorry about the wait! Hope you like this one, it's full of sass ;)**

 **A rescue in a bar. "How dare you look down your nose at me like that?"**

* * *

The bar was hopping tonight. Sweat and alcohol mingled in Emily's nostrils, which flared a little out of disgust. The stench and heat wrapped around her like a sweater. You'd think she would be used to it by now.

She sidled up to the counter, snatching the bartender's gaze right away. He was a chubby young guy probably in his mid-twenties, complete with a scruffy beard and thin, patchy hair that added ten years to his appearance. Seeing him nightly reminded Emily to be grateful she wasn't straight.

"Whataya want?" he grunted. His name was something like Scott or Stu— one of those slimy grease ball names she couldn't be bothered to recall.

"Take a wild guess," she fired back. Scott or Stu rolled his bloodshot eyes and spun around to retrieve a glass and a couple of bottles. He was being so secretive about the concoction he was brewing up with his back turned, Em wouldn't be surprised in the slightest if he spit in her drink or spiked it with a muscle relaxer of some sort. She leaned forward, watching as he ambled back around and slammed the skinny glass in front of her on the sticky counter. A flimsy cocktail napkin was flicked in her direction along with it.

They stared at each other for a few wavering seconds. Emily swirled around the glass, her midnight-blue manicure clinking along the frosty surface.

"What, y'think I Cosby'd you? Don't be fucking dumb," Scott or Stu grumbled.

"Oh, no, of course not! I know you've always been so overjoyed to serve me. Why would I be suspicious at _all_?" Emily smiled sweetly. With that she snatched up the drink and took a few cautious swallows. Gin and tonic. Tasted normal enough. Hell if she knew what was frozen into those ice cubes though.

He scowled at her. "Am I in the clear?"

His mocking tone was met with an even smirk. "One-hundred percent. Bravo."

Once he thankfully turned away to tend to another customer, Emily spent the next five or ten minutes sipping her drink and people watching. All kinds of weird folk roamed this bar; it was like an African safari, with the same wildness, variety, and unpredictability of what you could stumble upon. Just minus the break-your-neck bumpy truck ride.

Tonight offered an intriguing assortment. There was a loud group of frat boys in one corner, whooping as their buddy chugged a quick succession of shots. Emily would rather fool around with Scott or Stu than plunge herself in that revolting pool of idiocrasy.

A few tables away sat a nervous young couple. They looked like they were in the last place they wanted to be. They also looked so out of place, it was painful to watch. Emily would sooner expect to see her no-nonsense grandmother partying it up here than those two.

She was just starting to scrutinize a girl with a half-decent ass when the door opened, and in breezed the most peculiar sight Emily had ever laid her eyes on in this bar.

If actual rags were a real clothing item, this chick was wearing them. Baggy gray sweatpants, ratty navy blue hoodie, and dirty sneakers. Her hair was a pretty shade of blonde— likely dyed— but split into frizzy strands that reached all over the place. Purple bags stained the skin beneath her eyes and smeared lipstick had migrated up one cheek and down her chin. Various labels for her swarmed Emily's mind, none of them too nice.

Surely she was a soccer mom who had pulled up in her soccer mom van with scuff marks on the hubcaps and a "My Kid Is An Honor Student!" sticker peeling off the rear chrome bumper.

And so, naturally, Emily turned back to her drink.

The other woman just so happened to choose her location of brooding and misery only a few seats down from Emily. Em could practically feel the threatening shadow of Frizzy Blonde's dreary storm cloud drifting towards her.

She sighed for the millionth time, pretending not to hear as the poor girl ordered the cheapest martini Scott or Stu's grubby sausage fingers could prepare.

"What the heck is your problem?"

The words didn't have an effect on Emily at first, because she did not realize they were aimed at her. It was only when a sassy " _Ahem_!" followed that she bothered to glance back up at Frizzy Blonde.

Emily arranged her lips in a stiff, toothless grin and draped a hand innocently over her chest. "You talking to me, sweetie?" Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Scott or Stu looking intrigued at the brewing cat fight. He stood frozen in between them, wiping a glass with a dirty rag in the cliché bartender position, and turning his head back and forth as if he was watching a tennis match.

"Yeah, I sure am talking to you," Frizzy Blonde replied. Already it was apparent that her argument was losing steam, and this satisfied Emily immensely. "I- I mean… look at you! In your stupid, skimpy little cocktail dress, it looks like sausage casing on you! Gross! Who wants to see that?"

"Well, if you'd really like to know just who wants to see this"— Emily motioned to her body— "I can write you up a decent list of all the gals I've scored with in bed in the last couple years."

Frizzy Blonde made a sound of disgust and shifted her tired eyes back to her fruity diabetes-fest of a drink. Emily noticed then how piercing of a green this chick's eyes were.

Emily snapped out of it. She tried to.

Yet she was still staring a minute later. Frizz snapped her head back up and glared with a gaze chilly enough to puncture Emily's soul. She had seen many an emotionless look in this bar, but never had she locked horns with eyes so barren and so full of emotion at the same time.

"What are you doing?" Frizz demanded. "Ugh, how _dare_ you look down your prissy little nose at me like that! Sorry I'm not all glitz-and-glammed up for your favorite nightly bar charade."

"H- hey, I wasn't—"

"Save it, _honey_. Not every night can be my night, okay?"

Emily swallowed around the ping-pong ball that had formed in her throat. She forced herself to have a staring contest with the melting ice cubes in her drink, and somehow lost.

"Ah well, tough luck," Scott or Stu sneered, suddenly looming in her vision again. "Guess she's not into you. Time for me to make my _mooove_."

What a disgrace. Emily chose not to honor him with the chance of hearing her speak. Instead she slumped a bit more and watched as he sauntered back down to Frizz and passed her a napkin with his phone number scrawled on it.

"I know tonight may not be your night," his words crept over in Emily's direction, "but I can turn it into _our_ night real quick." Pause. "If you catch my drift," he added.

"Oh, uh, no thanks," Frizz said. She pushed the napkin back to him. "Trust me, if I was going out to pick up people, I would actually make an effort in my appearance."

"I don't need any effort from you, baby. I can put _all_ the effort in myself." He smirked and pushed the napkin back.

The girl gritted her teeth. "I'm sorry, but no." She pushed the napkin back.

He leaned in close to her. "How about you have another drink and see how you feel after that, hm?"

"Dude, I said _no_!"

Emily shot up off her stool and marched the couple feet down to them. She took ahold of Frizz's arm, swiveled her stool so she was facing her, then swept her into her arms and pressed her lips on the stranger's. Sweat was dripping down her neck and her pulse was throbbing in her throat. The make-out session was vigorous and all the energy she put into it was just as heartily returned.

Then, all at once, it was over. They separated with a juicy _pop_ and Emily was positive her lipstick was now also smeared not only on her face, but also on the other girl's. Scott or Stu was looking at them dazedly, and from the expression on his face, he was a mixture of horny and devastated.

"Sorry, bud. She's already taken," Em stated.

His jaw dropped slightly. "Wha—"

"She's my lover," Frizz supplied. "So you gonna scoot or what?"

He sputtered for a few seconds, then spit out, "I- if I pay you guys twenty bucks, will you let me watch again—"

"How about I pay _you_ twenty bucks to fuck off?" Emily suggested. He frowned and finally set down the second drink he had made up for Frizz, then at last walked away. Emily took one look at it and shook her head. "I would not drink that if I were you."

Frizz giggled. "Thanks. You're a lifesaver. And I must admit, I would not mind doing that again. Just, y'know, preferably in a more private setting."

Em nodded. "That can be arranged." She dipped her head. "Emily. You?"

"I'm Jess, I was dumped three months ago, and today I lost custody of my son." Something must've flickered on Emily's face, because right away Jess grinned with resignation. "I understand if that's a turn-off for you."

"No, no… it's not. I promise. I just— do you wanna get out of here?"

Jessica's smile widened. "You're such a cliché, I love it! I mean that in the nicest possible way, by the way. Let's go." She hopped off her stool and the two began to leave the bar, only for Emily to be flagged down by Scott or Stu for what she knew would be the final time.

"H- hey, I, uh, actually could kinda use twenty bucks, I don't need to watch anything but—"

"Hey, I offered twenty for you to fuck off, but you fucked off for free! The offer has expired, Stu," Em said.

"My name's Stan!" the guy whined as Jess pulled Emily out the door.

The responses he received were a well-manicured middle finger and a barely audible "Close enough!" as the door to the bar slammed shut.


	10. i love you, bitch

**"The man of my dreams is a girl" + "I love you, bitch" + almost wedding crashing + a hint of the coffee shop au I never got around to writing**

 **Thanks for the support over the past months. I really appreciate the favorites and reviews. I hope you enjoy this final installment and I'll see ya'll later :))**

* * *

Getting married on Valentine's Day was such a damn cliché. The fact that Jess loved the idea of it made her insides curl up into a tightly-wound, fiery hot ball of rage.

The rage was directed at no one else besides herself. There was a major dilemma on her hands, and it was her own fault she was nose-deep in this mess.

Her best friend in the whole wide world was tying the knot today. She was making it official with some jerk who didn't know the first thing about true romance. Sure, he would whip up a sweet "I love you" card from Hallmark, a bouquet of rich red roses, and a box of velvety chocolates— but that was all bullshit. Today, her best friend was tethering herself to the completely wrong person and it was all a mistake and Jess had to stop this at all costs.

There was another issue, however: she was not invited to this cursed wedding… so she decided desperate measures had to be taken.

This whole debacle began about two years ago, when Jess met her best friend in the whole wide world working in a coffee shop. Em was a terrible barista, complete with butter fingers that dropped the smallest of things and a knack for mixing up orders, then getting angry at the customer for her own screw-up.

She was probably about a day away from getting fired when Jess scooped her up. She had been watching Em from afar for a while, considering all the possibilities those chocolate eyes and sour smirk held. One day she finally drew up the courage to march up to the counter, order a venti caramel latte— because she was definitely gonna be there a while— and slip a piece of paper with her number on it into Em's hand along with the dollar bills.

It worked like a charm. Until it didn't. Her intentions were not matched nor reciprocated by Emily. Her offers of not-exactly-chaste cheek kisses and not-exactly casual brushing of their fingers backfired. It did not lead to lovely make out sessions and long-term hand holding. It only seemed to push Em farther away from her, deeper into strictly platonic territory.

And then she met Matt. Jess hated him upon first sight. Em loved him, obviously, from first sight. And the worst part of this was: Matt was a great guy. He was genuine, he was sweet, he was heartfelt. He was just terrible with the whole romance thing— he gave her the most generic-ass gifts a girl could (not) ask for.

Jess tried to set out to put a stop to this, but she was a little slow on the uptake. As she fell deeper into love with her best friend, her best friend was swept into the arms of adorable, nice, former football player Matt. When he proposed, her answer was obvious. They set the date for good ol' V-day, because what _else_ could be any more cliché than that?

Then, a few weeks ago, Jess fucked it up. She was at the top of the pack, beta maid of honor to Em's alpha bridezilla. She was comfortable in her little slot of power, scurrying around helping make preparations while ill intentions of sabotage brewed in her mind. She even tried to confide in Mike, Em's former boyfriend, but he was useless as always.

So it ended with bitter confrontation. Emily was heartbroken, Jess was heartbroken, it was terrible. The worst part of this was: Jess failed to admit her feelings. All she revealed was her plans to ruin all the festivities— and naturally that didn't sit too well with the bride-to-be. So Jess was kicked out and replaced with that goody-goody bookish redhead Ashley from Emily's work. So much for friendship.

But now, at last, she had formulated an effective plan to win Em back: break down the doors of the church, yell "I object!" dramatically, and take off with Em's elbow linked in hers while Em wrapped her arms behind Jessica's neck and kissed her beautifully. The scene was so idyllic, colorful, and flawless in her mind. Nothing could go wrong!

Jess stood behind the tree, hugging its rough, bark-lined trunk as she leaned around it to spy on the church. It was about five or so minutes into the ceremony, she estimated, and anytime now she would make her great entrance.

Just a few more minutes. Okay, a few more seconds. Then she would go storming in.

But something resembling hesitation— where the _hell_ did that come from? — simmers in her gut. Still, she forces her legs to move forward, on up the front steps of the church, and stand on tip toe so she could look through the window.

The image inside was distorted by the stained glass. Jessica's furiously darting eyes spotted Emily and Matt at the altar, her shaded in red and him shaded in green from the glass. She pulled her head back, letting her forehead rest forlornly against the door. The old wood groaned at the pressure, and she turned around and stomped back down the steps.

The storm continued to whirl within her, throwing around its torrent of emotions. She thought with anger of their lost friendship, she thought with envy of the huge rock of an engagement ring wrapped safely around Em's finger, she thought with despair of Em spending the rest of her life with him.

Then, all at once, the storm ended. The emotions dropped into her stomach one by one, landing like heavy boulders of debris. She completely crashed, and collapsed on the grassy area to the side of the church. Patches of slushy snow were scattered about on the lawn, and the gross February sky with all its mushy clouds scowled down at her. She could feel mud sinking into her clothes, its hungry staining power eating up the fabric with brown— and she couldn't care less. Em was lost to her.

Jess was roused by soft lace brushing her cheek. She murmured and tried to swat it away to no avail. Her tear-crusted eyes cracked open. A breeze whispered past and the lace of Em's dress tickled her nose.

She wiped away an almost-sneeze and propped herself up on tired elbows. Em was the picture of contentment as she sat next to her on the swampy ground, weaving and unweaving her slender fingers.

"I was wondering if you would lie there forever looking like a piece of roadkill," Emily remarked, tilting her chin down and aiming her precisely narrow face at Jess. Her lips were ruby red and skin a supple, healthy cream color with a smearing of pink under her eyes from the wind.

"Nope," Jess sighed, casting her gaze to the sky again because _god_ forbid she lock eyes with _that_. "Why're you here?"

"Just rewriting my life. You?"

"I almost crashed a wedding, but I decided not to."

Em's eyes were hot on her, burning into her skin like smoldering coals. Sweat sprang up in beads that dripped down the back of Jessica's neck. "That's funny," Em said after a long moment. "I almost crashed a wedding too. Except instead of almost crashing it, I actually did crash it."

This piqued Jessica's interest. She glanced back at the other woman and tried not to laugh as the feeling of joy set in and dissolved throughout her system.

"I think," Emily mused, "I think the man of my dreams is a girl." Her contemplative frown morphed into a wan grin. "But I don't know how to tell her I love her."

"And let me guess— you don't know how to tell her that you made a mistake?" Jess suggested.

"Possibly."

"And you don't know how to tell her that she was right and had a hunch all along?"

Emily threw her head back, letting out something that began as an exasperated sigh and ended as a chuckle. "Kiss my ass, Riley."

"I can think of another part of you to kiss, Davis," Jess countered.

"Please, show me."

She did. Gladly. And when they separated, though not quite separated because Jessica's lips were still ghosting over Emily's, and someone's fingers were crawling through the frosty grass blades to find an inviting hand— her voice was soft on the cold air.

"I love you, bitch."

Then she got up and took off across the lawn, feet barely grazing the grass. Emily ran just behind. Her dress billowed behind her in rippling white waves.


End file.
